That time of the year

Stories are often true,

 at least in the telling,

 and the season takes a part.

While, 

  not really new,

   I can't quit dwelling,

    I am hesitant to start.

The hesitation,

  a message from my heart,

 mixed wit a soul slowly healing.

   Moods often blue.

I fade away.

It is distressing,

 watching your physical substance lessen,

  but it could be a blessing.

Let it fade away

Pause

Bring it back

See your feet.

Breathe.

Don't Scream.

Dew between my toes.

Might as well make waffles.