deepundergroundpoetry.com
Waiting for Sunset (15, on second thought...)
Now I am about to finish the final draft of a book of poetry. It took a few days before I started feeling better again. He always greets me in the morning and helps me sleep at night. I like the seclusion. I get ignored sometimes. I felt too exhausted. Maybe I can start traveling again too.
We have an unusual relationship. My little nephew says I have Justin Bieber hair. My mom gave me some night cream. I became angry and destructive. My breasts don't hurt as much anymore. I have a voracious appetite. Disparaging and hurt. I became what he was. He's jealous of my stuffed dog Edward.
But nowadays he has changed. Our disputes are often such things as: Isn't a belief in rationality completely irrational? If the butterfly sits on the horns of the bull then she gets a free ride and makes the bull look pretty. Now he is more affectionate. My tumors are all behaving themselves too. He said I talk to Edward too much. My husband is the dragon. I want to come home.
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