Submissions by KaelynNorth

Missing her is like being trapped in a hurricane of butterflies with sharp razors for wings.
Missing her is an ice storm, hard and frigid.
Most days, missing her is the slow climb out of bed on days when the sun feels like the burning acid of words you did not say, or said all too late in the company of her ghost.

Standing at the edge of the world, I see nothing. I see no promises of afterlife, of stars, of eternal greatness. At the edge of the world, I see emptiness, coupled with the existence of my own thoughts.