My daughter, your daughter too. They’ll cry. No matter why, breathe. Listen. Solve when asked.
They’ve no idea. Knowing the truth has marred us. Do we tell the kids?
Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me. I always…
Riled up all day long Judging eye at my mother When I’m the issue