You may travel or dance or sing instead of writing through your pain, but know what you need and go about incorporating it into your gorgeous new story.
But if you cannot stay, hold yourself in the bright light of the good gods, hold yourself for a moment in a feeling of unrelenting union.
I have done ridiculous and radical things to stay open. Thrown food. Pushed. Slapped. Sobbed. Stuffed Twinkies in my mouth with a stranger at midnight.
Your love will flourish from a different part of you, the part that is slightly more ripe, a little more rooted in yourself.
I surrender. I don’t have the sparkle in my eye that says, it’ll be okay in the end. Tonight, it’s not okay. I’m not okay.