Hope

Hopeless? No, not really. If I were truly hopeless, I would give up. Let the water take me under. Release my fingers from the edge of the precipice. Sleep and sleep forever. But I don’t. There is always something to keep struggling for, even if it’s only a willow-the-wisp on the edge of my peripheral vision. A faint remembered smell that used to bring the glitter of inspiration to my eyes. A ghost of a song that used to make me dance. The feather-light caress of a lover’s hand. I clutch at them like the vestiges of a dream upon waking. I will NOT give up. Though my body throbs. Though my mind is spent. And my heart aches.