Music has that ability to unleash the trappings inside me that I can't set free on my own.

Inspire and release me while triggering and twisting me into knots while you force me to see myself clearly.

You. Yes you.

The wound won't close if I keep picking at it

But I'm in love with my pain it would seem.

The one I mistake for your face and voice

It

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Grief is not just an emotion—it’s an unraveling, a space where something once lived but is now gone. It carves through you, leaving a hollow ache where love once resided. In the beginning, it feels unbearable, like a wound that will never close. But over time, the raw edges begin to mend. The pain softens, but the imprint remains—a quiet reminder

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I don’t dream of the louvre though

I dream of yellow lighting, music playing, smells of dinner and hearts around the table

I don’t remember much from my childhood in that cold land

Other than the fact I never actually felt cold

There was always warmth in our home

Until there wasn’t

Ironic moving somewhere warmer but then we couldn’t handle the heat

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