September Fifteenth
By sweetbrother
She wakes in the morning anticipating her day awaiting gifts of love. But where is Daddy? He is somewhere dreaming, as always, walking along some deserted street, bathed in the rain with a bottle tucked in his pocket; something to ease the pain of remembering... And where is Mama? She is somewhere sitting crossed-legged on a dusty floor in a dim room with a glass tube clenched between her lips too numb to dream, her head filled with silent starbursts and, later, only aching needs. This morning, she doesn't care enough to remember. This is their child's day; her only gifts are solitude and an empty box to play with. Written December 13th, 2001 © on Dec 13 2001 01:37 AM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"She wakes in the morning..."