Everything Dries Eventually

The stillness after the storm,

where all that is left is a mist in the grass,

twigs fallen off the tree,

and you,

one layer less.

One chaotic piece of your life gone.

That storm,

it felt like madness.

But I’ve discovered that it is only madness that makes you feel free.

One more lighting bolt dodged, dear.

And the sun,

always on its way to dry you.

wet-bench

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