How will you remember me when I’m 13 billion light-years from you?
Look at all the darkness I’m peering through.
Now the light is fleeing too.
The great expanse of all you do.
© Delia Ross. 2020
😑
The Great Expanse
Words are the only thing left holding me together.
How will you remember me when I’m 13 billion light-years from you?
Look at all the darkness I’m peering through.
Now the light is fleeing too.
The great expanse of all you do.
© Delia Ross. 2020
😑
These are all freestyles I’ve been writing tonight and you haven’t even seen the stuff I’ve been writing that’s getting backed up…
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Absolutely, keep writing. There is something quite amazing in the process of expressing yourself–almost as if any sense of dying, of losing this life completely, becomes subsumed under the far greater impetus to share, to speak, to be heard. The darkness is one thing, and yes it can be compelling. But expressing it is important and even–however odd it may sound–life affirming. Keep writing. Keep sharing.
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His love (which I don’t even have) is the only thing that has kept me going. I have the greatest desire to be loved, to feel loved, before I die. 😑
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