like mother
By syllable
shortened breaths she exhales her ash buries the rest flesh and pink and beautiful she won't understand but I try and tell her listening halfway between glitches in her head she mumbles things and I totally understand the same defense drove away everyone and she looks at me stayed behind emotion on the brink of deciding not to hide she tips a smile with a nod and the tears pour out of her eyes she said, "you are the story of my life." Written November 22nd, 2001 © on Nov 22 2001 12:47 PM PST 0 • 10
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"shortened breaths ..."