It is days like these where you feel like removing your organs and wringing them on the laundry line to air dry with your linen sheets. You ponder the benefits of saying goodbye. There is no sweet relief, but pain, and nothing more or less. Loss is inevitable, and it waits patiently for your acceptance, and when it is permitted to take over your body, the organs are dirtied again. And when you don't have the strength to rip them out once more, you feel it. All over. It trickles throughout your brain, swims throughout your veins, beats it's way around your lungs and eventually tarnishes your heart.

You are in the body of an angel with his silk wingspan roped painfully around his back. Your hands desperately...