It bothers me that you didn’t try to know me. You gave me so much to write about. Like mini-clips from pen to paper. You didn’t even know that I was a writer. Nor did you care about the story that I experienced. The story that you heard but never asked about. That story told …
I scrubbed the carpet on my hands and knees. Then the dogs moved in. After all of that, I felt used up. I watched life continue as if I no longer existed. After all of that, I felt unloved. I spoke a few words and then I spoke many words. After all of that, I …
Rows of scattered trees. Sweat and cheese crackers. Dogs are running wild. Boxing in the dark. Playing at the park. Pancakes and homemade salsa. These Sundays together won’t last forever, So I live in the moment. right now.