104

10 2 0
                                    

one minute :
you are blasting pop music from the car speakers
with the windows rolled down
laughing with me as you scream the lyrics
to some shitty song we don't remember

and the next :
i am gaping at you
tears spilling onto my cheeks
as your mouth forms words
that you will never apologize for

how is it
that one minute
you are my mother
and the next
you are not

wilting rosesWhere stories live. Discover now