I can tap into the sadness at anytime. It is morning here now, but I still feel you.
I've found that growth is the only remedy for a broken-heart, and attempting to better oneself is advantageous to wallowing.
To be broken is to be cracked open, and a new strength pours fourth. A strength you did not know you possessed. It will take you, carry you, and lead you into new places.
Everyday is not a good day, but the strength makes you comfortable in the ups and downs. Somedays the wine is overflowing, and you pour back into the memories. Eventually, you learn not to do this. It will begin to feel like running in circles, and you'll want to go somewhere new.
So you emerge each day, sober and aware of all the passions around you. Pink roses on the street corner, a new lover in your bed, with soft baby blonde hair. His eyes are new and childlike.
You are not defined by your lovers anymore, but by an accumulation of books you've managed to read as of late. You're a pagan, you're a poet, you're a painter. You read about the natural world, the human body, and eastern religions.
You don't believe in the resurrection, but you believe in virtue, passion, and truth. You begin to seek truth. You discover that acting with integrity is in your own best interest, and do so not because someone else told you to.
You are yours, more than you have ever been before.
xx
clothing by Maison Close
photos by Jen Senn