entry 19: psalm (may 27)

the calendar flips. another month gone. i should feel despair; instead i feel hallowed.

she is not an idol. she is not salvation. she is the dark flame that burns with me. the corrupted clay, shattered vessel. silence.

i whispered my whole life to her in fragments. i nearly drowned. she held all of it.

when i closed my eyes, i felt her hand on mine. cold clay.

the psalm ends: we are broken and we are endless.