One laughing because my father always calls when our bank has another big debit card scammer, father what will they do with my dollar and eight cents?
One wise and knowing that everything we lost is how it was meant to be. This script I call life never pulls punches and I've never backed down from a fight. I will greet this new step with a kiss as I wrap my knuckles. Peace surrounding that things are new. I could stand in the rain and grieve until my soul follows the flood, but it's so cold. I'd like to go inside now.
One filled with tears, crying out like a toddler for all we lost and all we will never have. Cry out for my sisters miscarriage as my womb laid barren. Having an elephants funeral for every scar. Heartbreak for people who never had a heart. Tears for stuffed animals old and freshly torn. The same tears for old love songs and my mother's relapse. Tears displayed for really great high and Tylenol nights.
One who only asks questions. Are we pregnant? Did we choose the right path? Did any of it matter, our whole life? What's that in the woods? Are they smiling or judging? Am I autistic? Do they know who I am or who I was, which would they prefer? Is this crazy?
No. Repeat. No.
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
No.
