Go hide. Take what you can – sunlight, cookies, a lover’s promise slowly decomposing on the counter. Shove the handfuls into your pocket. Go ahead and let the days get small. But you, Darling, don’t.
Nothing inside you is dying. The ache is just your blood, the heaviness your sleeping ghosts. Light your candles in this last month. Outside, the crust of the earth still cares.