In the Liminal Yolk Light
you don't always need words to say goodbye, or I love you
The morning sun eased into the dark night like a yolk river of light, spilling from the horizon where the darkness ran to hide. Still laying in bed, our bed. The hazy dimness of night became a ghost as that yolk light seeped inside, brightening the glass window on the east wall. I look at my husband. He always looks the most beautiful, illuminated by the sunrise. The naked of his skin vulnerable and unashamed next to me,...
