She knows all my secrets and she’s using them to wear me down, grind me into submission.
We once believed god made us in his image, but those days of vanity have long past.
I bet that Bachelor in the Arts you got will look real nice next to all the debt collection notices.
Fix a sandwich, late for shopping , bought a mirror, kids are fine.
Perhaps they don’t notice her, just as I never noticed her before the moment she sat down beside me, popping a blueberry into her mouth.
Grieving is best done not on your feet.
