Black Box



You come to me often, and I can’t take it—seeing your Cheshire smile, and glittering eyes. I’d thought dreams of you would bring me peace, but those visions of you animated, and the dulcet tones of your voice, well-remembered, bouncing against the walls of my skull only cause me agony. I hold a wake with a devastated ribcage, fractured from the distension of a lamenting heart—my heart, it heaves, weeping tears of its own, crimson.


The anguish of mourning is transcendental; and necessary in the process of healing. Booze is something else that’s necessary, though arguably. My mother was a legit alcoholic, perpetually grieving. And she smoked a lot—the cheap mentholated cigarettes with the most pungent odor. She always smelled like fresh cut flowers that had been dusted with baby powder, then bundled up and tied with twine to hang dry from the sticky ceiling of an off-road dive bar.

What do I know about bars—particularly the dive variety? More than I had ever wanted my mother to know that I know. She would have been sad to learn I’m a perpetual griever. I sincerely trust she lived her life believing I was bright yellow as a full sun.

Now, my mother is dead. She’s dead, and I have never before felt my soul twisting around itself so goddamned tightly. To mourn my mother is to feel actual, inexplicable pain. I can’t get drunk enough to go numb; only stupid enough to pass out at my computer desk after I’ve written some crazy enlightened bullshit that only a griever high as all fuck could begin to understand, and appreciate.

I’m so full of shit soaked vodka, I wish someone would haul off and punch me in the face. Preferably when I’m fucking blotto, so it won’t hurt too much—until I wake up the following afternoon.

To mourn my mother is to self-loathe. I could have loved her better. She’s dead, and I’m a knapsack full of dicks and hindsight.




  1. Wow, that’s quite an introduction to your writing. Your sentences dance, but to such a dark melody. I hate to say I enjoyed this, but I cannot deny that I came back for seconds and thirds.

    “legit alcoholic, perpetually grieving”
    Speaking as someone who has occasionally had to step back from the barstool, and cut down on the evening’s red wine, those words are hauntingly accurate.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh my sweet friend… my heart breaks for you. I’m glad to read all of the other comments, you have a lot of people rooting for you (including me). I could never bring myself to punch you in the face, but I will punch life in the face for you. Sending you a big hug and lots of love ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The imagery your words create in this piece is outstanding. The description of how “She always smelled like fresh cut flowers that had been dusted with baby powder, then bundled up and tied with twine to hang dry from the sticky ceiling of an off-road dive bar” blew me away. I could smell her, I could see them hanging, I was in the bar, seeing everything and hearing the jukebox blaring out its music! I love this Kindra 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Even if I could be there, I wouldn’t punch you, especially not in the face. I love that face…and I abhor physical violence. I’m sorry that I can’t get to you any other way than this way, and this way doesn’t cut it for me. Grief is a wanker and you have to get through it any fuckin’ way you can, love.

    I used cake, not booze – but we’re both writing. That’s what’ll get you through this shit, Kindra. You know it will, don’t you?

    And I’m here. I’m here if you need me. I don’t care when – wake me up if you need to. I wouldn’t mind. Love you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I promise you, I know I will get through this. Writing IS a form a therapy for me, as it is for you. I’m not worried about me. If I were, I would tell you, I swear it. I know I have you, and that is another great comfort to me. I love you endlessly ❤

      Liked by 1 person

          1. 108…screw that, lol! I like a nice 72. I imagine winter in Colorado is beautiful. I do appreciate a scenic white. Where I live, it’s just shit, lol. However, upper Michigan is absolutely gorgeous under a blanket of snow.

            Liked by 1 person

          2. When I was still married to Nicole’s dad, we three had holiday at Niagara Falls. Nicole and her dad convinced me to get on the ginormous Ferris Wheel that overlooked the Falls. The ride stopped dead when our gondola reached the tippy top. Nicole, aged 8 at the time, said, “Hmmm. What do you think would happen if just one of those screws came loose from the frame?” I lost my shit. For real. In tears, for hours after we made it off, and were safe in our hotel room. Never again. Ever, Ever.

            Liked by 2 people

          3. Yes, I am generally fine on big planes. But it was a stressful time, and my anxiety was high, and I think it was my first legit panic attack. Really awful. Increased my compassion for anxiety sufferers, that is for sure!

            Liked by 1 person

          4. Yes, that is the only way to describe those situations, right? It was so tiny, I felt like I was going in to a coffin. It caught me off guard as I had always been a good flyer. Ugh, I am getting worse as I age I think.
            PS your comment made me laugh. That’s totally how I feel.

            Liked by 1 person

  5. Hey you. Sorry that you’re feeling this. I’m tempted to comment something to make you feel better but I know it can’t. My thoughts are with you though. Just try not to be too hard on yourself, you’re only human.

    Liked by 1 person

          1. I see where you’re coming from now. You can’t beat yourself up over it, your mum knows she was loved and this cruel irony is something life does to us if different ways. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to hate yourself for it. Big hugs

            Liked by 2 people

          2. That’s the thing. Dwelling in the past can’t make you happy, all we can do is take the memories with us as we keep going forward and remember that we were loved and lived back.
            I know it’s slim comfort but it’s kind of our existence. ❤️

            Liked by 1 person

          3. I don’t know what to say here… Lol
            Thank you… I do care and when it’s appreciated it shows its made a difference. My pleasure Kindra.
            I’ll catch you later I’m off to work ☺️❤️

            Liked by 1 person

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