15 May 2013


Because maybe it's real and maybe it isn't.

I want to eat dinner again, and then
A little bit more after that. I’m fat.
I’m bothered by every damn thing. I sing
Off-key and I can’t hold a thought. I’m short
With children who don’t want abuse, just juice,
And husbands who just want a smile; and while
I’m searching through odd Tupperware, despair
Takes over and I start to cry. But why?

1 comment:

  1. You could do worse things than blaming your rags from time to time. Big hugs, S xx