2:16 a.m.
I can't tell if creating me had eaten her alive or if she was always destined to descend down the spiral she had merely been holding off for the entirety of her youth
and then maybe
if he had seen his father's casket and seen that he couldn't hurt him anymore then maybe he could be kinder, softer... and perhaps then i could know what sorry sounds like from the mouth of a man
.s
YOU ARE READING
it's 5 a.m. now
Poetrya taste of everything that has made life a little more bitter and on rare occasions; a little sweeter | just an informal way to get thoughts out, i guess
