You spent the entire year mourning, enough now. I know you like your clothes and nails and coffee black, but maybe add some red lipstick this time. Maybe add some sugar. That swollen grey cloud has been hanging over your head long enough. It’s time to come back. Slowly, if that’s what you need, but it’s time to come back. There’s nothing romantic about the ghosts baby. Stop running your lips over the things that haunt you. Let the past die. You could be so damn alive if you would just let the past die.