Truths

Jan 13 Reblogged

To love life. To love it even when you have no stomach for it. And everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands. Your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief weights you like your own flesh, only more of it. An obesity of grief. You think, “How can my body withstand this?” Then you hold life like a face between your palms. A plain face. No charming smile. No violet eyes. And you say, “Yes. I will take you. I will love you again.
— Ellen Bass (via aheartwhoseloveisinnocent)

Notes

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