She glides into the room to the beat of the music playing on her phone, singing into the broom handle as she sweeps. The years are starting…
The morning glories are in bloom again.
All along the side of the road I see them, popping out of the dried grasses of early fall, gems of purple and deep…
TW: Suicide
I can see the little boy in you. He is playful, and boisterous, and so easily amused. He peeks through shyly when you make that sad face you do, and…