my heart is empty

But my stomach is full on zucchini bread. That's the way it always goes.
I'm back on the muthafucking rag, and it blows (and shows -- evidence the freshly baked zucchini bread with crystallized ginger above). And I'm startled by the finality of it. My baby-birthing days are over, just like that. That time in my life has come to a close and I'm mourning it. The innocence I found there in myself as a new mother. Those tender spots that I still had buried under all the damage, I didn't know they existed or I would've tried harder to kill them off in my reckless youth. But my babies soften them right back up.
There is nothing more beautiful than the unquestioned acceptance of love. A capacity which only a young child can still possess.
It's just been a hell of a whirlwind two years.