forget forget.

It’s not love that is scary, It’s not the idea that you can wake up happy and willing to love and give the heart what it wants by leaning into the feeling. That, is not scary.

Coffee, when you first smell it or take a sip, sits on your tongue and your nostrils and the familiarity immediately travels through your body. Your body responds. Like it was waiting for its morning ritual. It was waiting for its lover to awaken it from its slumber and to begin the journey of surviving the day together.

On the mornings when coffee is not possible, where time leaves you behind. Your body, without its’ lover, tries to catch up. Without its’ lover, it swings through the hoops of the day and it pendulums between lull and action with the full knowledge that something is missing. Someone is missing. The day continues to take time like it has not noticed that you are left behind, empty.

What happens when you learn to live without coffee? Because one day you stop indulging and focus on healthier ways of being happy than need. When the body decides that it no longer wants to need anything outside of its self. That it wants to pull joy from the parts of itself that it has never explored or decided to lock away. When trauma does not allow it to ignore but to face itself. Open itself out to the world and allow those who dare look, to see.

What happens if the body is standing on top of a hill and it is open but it is not seen. When eyes avert themselves to its open parts because beauty does not look like this. Beautiful things have beautiful colors and are beautifully shaped with beautiful edges. But this body, standing on the hill with its back to the view to hide from the wind and the open gaze of the landscape, this boody stands open and it is not beautiful. It is ragged and tired, it is coffee stains from the past and it stands here exposed.

The scariest thing about love is that one day it can wake up and decide to stop loving you back.

The funny thing about healing is that it does not seem to stop. It seems healing likes to make sure that it moves with time. It awakes when time awakes and sleeps when time sleeps. It is there holding court with the sunrise when time restarts. Healing happens with time. Wraps itself in every second of the day and only allows itself to be felt in the tiniest of doses.

Like drops.

The body mends.

It awakes one morning and it wonders why it ever wished for death.

It forgets.

Now it stands on the mountain and faces the view and those that have eyes, can see.