#lovestinksyeahyeah

I don’t quite have the words to describe it, but

it’s like the ashy remnants of wood left behind

after everything else has burned away but those

pieces just refuse to get reduced down to pure

black carbon, pigheadedly holding onto a shred

of what wood they once were before the inferno.

Or it’s like a possum that refuses to play dead,

sitting there on the summer lawn looking up at

you with those beady little half-blind eyes that

possums seem to have, the most hideously ugly

of backyard critters, rat-faced, toothy, and too

stupid to realize that he’s about to be murdered.

Or it’s one of those heaping snow-piles in the

corner of the parking lot that was shoved there

two months earlier by some oversized pickup

plow, and though it’s seventy degrees outside,

it just won’t melt, frost-dried into a grey-white

crystallized glacier too stubborn to say goodbye.

yeah, that’s lost love,

It takes a lot for some people to be able to open up to others. But it is nice to now for many other people, that having someone to actually listen to them for once, to get paid to do so. The therapist cannot leave at all easily. 

Some people’s perception on friends is that they are there to listen, so when someone finally gets that person, be it a therapist, they may believe that they are best friends. 

It is nice that someone can be there for you. So maybe you are actually close to your therapist (I mean someone else, not necessarily you...). It is very possible.