Taking this long needed breath before school starts. Watching the sky and doing my laundry. Thinking about poetry and that beaten wife syndrome and how possibly to heal. I am free?
Tired of writing in real sentences. What made me think I could? Being the battered wife helps. Oh mind you it's not what you think. No husband or wife raised any steel hand. I left a place. Not a home. A place.
I miss you kitty baby. Oh, i don't want to talk in sentences anymore. I'm preparing to teach and be taught. I am little-girl scared. Fluttering.
I am alright.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment