Member-only story
We All Hold Hands With Hurt Sometimes
The little angel was whisked from her womb
much too soon.
The mother cries into the chest
of a stranger
whose chest was scooped hollow because
no one tells you being lovesick can turn into
a chronic condition leaving you a solid
apparition
the lady and the stranger sit on a bench crafted by
a single father whose home bears the FOR SALE
sign
know what else is for sale?
his hopes and dreams
and like a snail he wears his backpack; beside him
are two pigtails with four eyes
spitting images of a mother who still lived in
her childhood’s nightmare —
a nightmare she couldn’t escape
even though her finger wore the crown
even though her twins’ smile could make
the daisies dance — they were not enough
and when it rains, it rains on the
bad and the meek.
Thank you for reading!
If no one told you that you were enough, then hear it from me — you ARE enough. You are everything you need to be. 💖
