My plan to post daily has failed spectacularly.
Everything’s been hit hard since Ma went home. No outbursts of tween energy. Tongue is a little drier, clothes a tad looser. Eyes a little puffier.
This heart is a miraculous sponge.
Your fist can clench tighter, fingers keep digging into wet flesh
And blood will keep flowing
Like zam zam, never ending.
What are words but another mark on a riddled dartboard…