Blood to Dust

The dust has settled over the blood we’ve shed. Our previous lives are behind us.

The future is bright.

And clean.

And most importantly—it is ours.

 

Time.

A wise, vile dead man once told me that it moves differently according to circumstances. Sometimes it’s slow. But sometimes. . .it moves exactly as it should.

I don’t want to pause, and definitely not to rewind. If anything, a part of me wants to press fast forward.

To life without stress balls.

To domestic bliss.

To babies.

To growing old next to this man who occupies every inch of my soul.

All you need to know about life is that it’s just like an hourglass. Sometimes you’re down, and sometimes, up.

And right now, I’m up, baby. So. Flipping. High.