Warm Black Hug
Sometimes it comes back, like a warm black hug, that familiar, settled, heavy blanket. I spent years with a seam ripper, trying to rip each stitch apart before their shredded threads would sew themselves in again, to make up for what was missing. Eventually, I finally broke it – the weight became too heavy in the bathtub. soaking through. I lost it then. I lost it in the tub, with my guitar and my bruises,…