dusting
November 17th, 2001Shifting around in this place that I used to call home with you has stirred up the dust. The dust tells me that this is too much to give up. The dust purposely highlights those things that matter most. The dust works up these tears and almost shakes me for a second. Then I remember the dust is the reason I've waited this long. The dust is the reason I found my way here in the first place. The dust has done this to me before.
I wipe the dust away and move on.


















