Maggie wished she was the kind of woman who could settle a broken heart with a shot glass and a bottle of whisky, but she wasn’t the destructive type. No. Maggie would sit with it. She’d always been a woman who stood in her power, and just as steady as she stood in her pain. Maggie’s strength was a curse just as much as it was a blessing. She always took the high road. It usually wasn’t an easy option, or the most attractive to the average man, but it was the only option that would satisfy her spirit.
“Jesus.” She said. Her words lost in the emptiness surrounding her as she soaked in the massive landscape that cemented the lone cowboy type she had become. Maggie could handle the hurt. She’d been through so much of it. But who was she to complain, she thought. She certainly wasn’t the only wounded soul out there. Love generally requires a certain amount of ability to handle pain. She was okay with that. Maggie just wondered when she would find the one that didn’t hurt so much or if that even existed.
Maggie didn’t really drink and she wasn’t the destructive type so she pondered the concept of the existence of true love as she sat on her porch and let herself get lost in the bliss of the sunset and the rise of the evening star.
thoughts on a sunset awgryphon©