2:36 a.m.
tell me, how wonderful is it for a daughter to be liked—not loved—but liked by her mother?
i could crumble my existence into bite sized pieces but i am most certain that she will find a way to chew them up and spit them out
still, i am holding her hand even as her fists are tightened
.s
YOU ARE READING
it's 5 a.m. now
Poesíaa 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
