This is not good.
This will not be good.
Terrible. Terrible. Terrible.
Pangs of guilt.
We are having this conversation
-Six months later-
I am the death of me.
I am the achilles of my own heel.
Hades need not approach with stealth,
For I have already signed his deal
The slow hissing alerts me to the darkness that is approaching,
The entire city should probably fix their brakes.
It is such a messy sound to hear,
The groanings of machinery being restrained.
My aching heart, drowning in her misery,
Chained to a purified mix of pain and drain.
She drudges herself on toward tomorrow.
She wards hope off as she remembers,
We already had this conversation.
…current events in my life…
Meanwhile on the C&H front: