Poetry (words)

I was thinking. 

The table by the window is my favourite place. The sunlight bounces off of the whitewashed walls until it sets. My skin is tight from the sea and the heat…..I don’t want to wash it off. Places have a habit of making their impression, like they know you need just to be. If only for a while. 

It’s not like I can forget all the shit, but the shit will still be there. Perspective and breathing are all I need right now, the realisation of that is cathartic enough.  The timely reminder of the Trainline app woke me this morning. Some journeys are supposed to be missed and  plans can’t be held together with hindsight. 

My head is clear. My heart still aches a little, but as with all memories it’ll find its rightful place and ease with time. Neither rushed nor hidden away. 

The ocean is vast. 

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