Days
The snow falls, daffodils bought last week droop from the mason jar long wilted, dried flowers--from the fall--still stand in another mason jar providing another touch of me in this space as dried bouquets have long intrigued me, the lone orchid stands dying as a reflection of my mood and life as of late, my foot aches in the backdrop, and music no one wants to listen to plays. Sad songs. Moods and memories. In the shower, I notice a new bruise on my shoulder. I wonder when it came to be, where it came from, and why I didn't see until now. Did I do that in my sleep? Was it someone on a crowded subway? It's the wrong shoulder for my handbag. I wash my hair and forget about it. Riddled with aches of Lupus and arthritis I do yoga in my studio. I can't make it out for a run, as my post-pneumonia lungs are still reminding me of things of I should not do, and pole dance is planned for Friday. I play mixed songs, of a favorite playlist i...