I kept looking back at the calendar. And then looking forward to a precise half year later..
'That date was the last time."
OR
As if my heart would magically be healed by simply marking time.
"Anyone or anything worth loving is worth grieving," he said.
"Stop Counting."
Ever quick to make a joke when things are uncomfortable, I shot a quick response back.
"And start mounting."
We laughed. Serious discussion averted.
Stop Counting
You can't tell your heart what to feel.
Time isn't precise when it heals.
The calendar merely counts off days
Your heart beats to a different phase
If you keep counting what happened, you'll miss what could happen.
Start Mounting
A defense
An offense
A tire(d) of thinking too much about......
A horse with no name
The stairs
A fabulous piece of art
Count the ways you can mount the rest of your days.
And ride that bitch in an ocean swell, over a jump on a fine white horse, in a 77 Ford truck down some bad ass trail.
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