Tears flow down, allowed to be

It’s fucked up. To be lost in love, to be missing someone who is no longer there. To make stupid decisions because you see some remembrance, some twinkle of reminder in someone else. I want to say it’s seeing something wonderful in someone else. Something I recognize because I’ve known it. I want it to be a good reason. But I can’t help but see the other side and think that I’m being dishonest. That I’m looking for her in others and deceiving them and myself. That I’m seeing what I need to see.

Maybe I’m just not in the mood to be charitable, to harness the better demons of my nature. Maybe that negative view is bullshit. I hope it is. I hope I’m recognizing that glimmer of beauty because I’ve known it. Because I knew Morgan. I hope Morgan knows I’m trying and not just wallowing in darkness.

But I can’t know. The 30th is Morgan’s Birthday. She would have been 44. I loved her. I love her still. I’ll love her always.

As I love and will love all those I’ve loved. Because she showed me.

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