Left of Forever (Spunes, OR, #2)

by Tarah DeWitt

Let life chip and file away at us until our edges were too dull to catch on each other and keep hold.

writing had been an excavation of my feelings.

Hope doesn’t have the power to cancel out worry,

Ellis is the kind of handsome that you absorb in pieces before you notice something new and get the thrill of starting all over again.

miss you, too sounds glib. You have been missing from me is more accurate. There’s a void where you lived in me.

“All I know is that if I found out heaven was real and got there first? I’d hang back in the waiting room and save you a seat.”

Hope is cruel in its persistence.

Putting thoughts into written text is different, like the distance from my brain to my hand allows time for it to come out the way I want it. The distance between my mind and my mouth is too short.

After all, what is bravery if not hope in action?