12:34 AM, November 11th.
My Motherless Daughter brain has a thousand new questions roll through it every fracture, every instance that ages me. Each a pinprick mapping a tattoo of loss in my skin.
Tonight, I wonder most, did she ever feel like I do right now? Shards of my heart in my stomach, internal organs bleeding like I've swallowed fiberglass.
I wonder even more, if she'd lived, if she hadn't have been 16, 24, 32, dead, would I be doomed to this kind of love?
Tonight, I wonder most, did she ever feel like I do right now? Shards of my heart in my stomach, internal organs bleeding like I've swallowed fiberglass.
I wonder even more, if she'd lived, if she hadn't have been 16, 24, 32, dead, would I be doomed to this kind of love?