selfish.

Dear Friend,

I miss you, cry for you...grieve. Yet, I know my actions are selfish. The tears are for myself, lost without your laugh and wishing I could bring you back. You are in a wonderful place, living past the physical limitations that kept you from doing what you loved while you were here. I'm sure your days are filled with wine, singing, dancing, and swimming with other saints.

A life closer to the sun, how fitting. It makes sense, considering you were the ray of happiness for everyone in your presence. Smiling with the ability to turn the most stubborn scrooge into a softhearted sap.

Today, I will cry one more time...knowing full well I'm feeling sorry for myself. Drops of greedy rain, falling from my eyes. Craving one more hug, one more laugh, one more shot of energy from your smile. You made it possible to believe the impossible is a lie.

But, don't worry-I fully realize your gift to us. A perspective where holding back isn't an option, happiness is a choice, and being stingy with love...is a crime.

Thank you, for the positive push from above. Time to wipe my tears, and outfit myself with a grin. You've changed everyone around you, for the better. Now I leave this selfish sorrow to step into the light and warmth you left behind.

-Erica

*This post is dedicated to my dear friend Darcy Pohland. I love you, and can see you raising hell up there. Keep it up. There will never be another like you.

pure.

Don't worry.
The flakes will fade, and ice will melt.
And in the end, the flowers will come back...they always do.
Until then, look out across the pristine white and remember, we all are allowed the same liberty as this landscape.
A fresh start.
In only an hour things looks so different, and you can do the same by simply changing the way you view your surroundings.
Who knows, if your approach shifts, maybe those things will finally yield the change you have been waiting for, impatiently.
Give it a try. Let it snow.

grey.

After awhile, the digging, hateful words you speak become gibberish. A foreign language to my ears. Brain, heart, and soul choosing not to process the ugly thoughts you throw.

If you are going to speak in colorful tones, at least make it sounds like a rainbow.

I see no pigment in your voice. Only grey, dreary fear.

When you are ready to explore the new chroma and hue of happiness, wake me up. Because right now I'm dreaming in color, and my heart refuses to compromise by flipping to black and white.