Loss

How easy is it to lose yourself, through the pain of transition, through the everyday horrors of life, lasting and surviving pouring the milk, brewing the coffee, looking them in the eye. How easy is it to lose yourself with nothing, on your own, only looking to what's inside to bury it, without the help of the next drink, or inhaling the fumes, or the shiny little pills prescribed by the doctor, or bought in the park, small and shining and alive. I lost myself, but then I came back, I always come back, and the light is somehow more subdued, edges have got blurred, every time. Every time slightly more.

Peace

In the everlasting story of every day, I dream that humour flows through our veins like blood from the sky, that we can live in a nirvana lost somewhere between heaven and earth, that magic runs freely through our sight and our touch , that we live and breathe and love and die being true to ourselves, giving the best of ourselves
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/467197