Because I am never good at beginnings, I write words that never make it from my mind to my mouth. They slither to hide under my tongue, like medicine I pretend to swallow, as I speak words that are mine but never came from me.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
27 - The Waiting Game
See them laying there all pretty? Only when they're asking for something. Conniving brats!
No comments:
Post a Comment