First time I could write my love
September 23, 2017—I am a sensitive artist, a woman who has PTSD from a life well lived. This blog is a letter to my absolute soul mate with a few diversions/explanations. I am broken. I know this. I celebrate my broken-ness with gratitude and booze to help with the pain of who/what isn't here and to deal with what is.... so here goes... Dear sweet love, it took this long for me to be able to write you. Whats funny is that men have a scent. I grabbed our blanket and I could smell "man" on it. I’ve been without one long enough to distinguish a difference and its both beautiful and palpable. I never realized this before. I don’t want to wash our blanket, but it needs it. You are on it and I want to keep whatever I have left of you…. but that blanket is dirty, love. I still have your vomit on it from where and when you died. And I still want it there, but its getting cold and I have to clean it so my sweet 6 yr old son can sleep under it. I mourn what I will l