Blogging about: life, death, surviving in management, religion, grief, and anything else that allows me to string more than two words together ...
A staccato beat drums in my mind. Like rain, pelting on a window, fierce and relentless.
The thoughts, streaking the glass of my mind, are just as cold. Just as wet.
Huh, are you hiding in my house somewhere? Your saying words that fit me - like we're sisters sharing the clothes....
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1 comment:
Huh, are you hiding in my house somewhere? Your saying words that fit me - like we're sisters sharing the clothes....
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