I throw it out there every day, hoping it won�t get squashed or stepped on. I struggle to offer what I would want someone to offer to me when my soul is at it�s ugliest � unconditional love. But I hate it and I�m tired of it and I want to know when it�s going to be over.
He says he misses me, he says he wants to see me. When, I say. Soon, he says. What the hell does soon mean? Soon will never come! I�m tired of begging for the blessing of his company.
