“Sorry”, he mumbled, not meaning it.
A signed name; a sealed fate.
Broken shoe, broken cheekbone, broken spirit.
Full church. Cold feet. Empty door.
The greener grass was damn AstroTurf….
The phone rings. The voice on the other end say “we need you again”, then hangs up. I want to pretend I didn’t hear her, go back in time and not answer the call. Who am I kidding? There are no choices here, not for me anyway. I’m the main attraction. My popularity is to… Continue reading The Call
Red and yellow and pink and green, orange and purple and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow of bruises. The door slams; what colour next?