Writing the words that I cannot seem to speak, so that one day you might actually hear me.
It’s Tuesday The rain has stopped. It’s been a week since the accident. You are not here. But I am. So I write. I eat.
By Ashley Pacitti2 years ago in Poets
Mom, You wrote me a letter so I thought it would only be fitting that I write you back. I never told you this, maybe if I had things would be different.
There once was a little girl, who wanted nothing more than to heal the broken with all the love she felt. Her love felt so big that if she tried to keep it to herself, she felt she would explode.
I see you. Oh, how I see you. Making meals, working on yourself, giving back to everyone around you. Watching over us, taking care of us, protecting us.
