I just realized that I gave you dead flowers yesterday. Roses. Somewhere brilliant between black, purple, and a beautiful red.
Decayed. Decayed and dead.
As if my unconscious mind had staged some sort of play which that moment was merely the denouement…
Graceful elegant majestic woman. I knew you and know you still, the honor is all mine.
Pierce the shell and rip the mask off, dear Taurus. You’ve shown me that even my deepest darkest and most chaotic authenticity…not only is acceptable, but also works.
Our possibility still lives, somehow. Even throughout all the chaos and confusion and back and forth, your even handedness, patience, compassion, and love I can still distinguish.
“In this moment, you are the love of my life.” It was true for but a moment before my Already Always Listening kicked back in.