Truth casts a spell of its own.
I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
I've had so many bikini waxes, I cry every time I see a Popsicle stick.
One can never go back. One always has to move forward.
Or perhaps it is some combination of spirit and desire, love and hope, some alchemy that we each possess and can put to use, if we first know where to look without flinching.
Sitting in my favorite coffeehouse with a new notebook and a hot cup of java is my idea of Heaven.