Dark Days

Sometimes we die, not from the initial blast of a love one’s betrayal but, from the little shrapnel that takes its time moving through our bodies. Moving slowly, as we struggle to cope with the trauma of that wound. Moving purposefully, in-spite of the efforts we make to start over, pick up the pieces, and begin again. And moving painfully; even as all of those watching the “train wreck” of your life begin to lose interest at signs of your recovery. It moves until it reaches the heart. To add insult to injury; the cause of that death is, more often than not, misdiagnosed. Suicide? No, just the effect of an untreated wound.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s