What began as a diary of sorts to help me cope with Multiple Sclerosis, has turned into a book of portraits I have painted that, more often than not, have very little to do with MS. This is for the artists who taught me the most beautiful things come from pain, and my sister, Stacey, who also has MS...
Where did my sunshine go? I haven’t written in months. Where’s my last post? Was that a question or a boast? I give him the stink eye and keep working.
Always thinking.
They buried her in September. So I’d feel the chill of December And trace translations of her ghost.
I do not know you. And still, and calm, I love you most.
Invisible and close. You are impossibly intimate. Worn through. I keep clutching this sacred touch I never knew.
I wear you well, but still I’m tired. Nodding out and into you. Blinking from the sunshine you let seep through. She’s gone. She’s Impossible.
This embrace I never knew. This year’s December blew… Through and through.
I’m so thin, and still it was a cold I never knew. Sort of like being stranded. On a blank, cheap, sheet of paper.
I don’t want to write. I just want to hold onto you, And dream about this light I never knew. Let the sunshine bend... on those who do.
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