rain on a tin roof
red wine staining my lips
fingers on forbidden keys
the agony and ecstasy of birthing
lost songs in the underworld
extinguished wicks. drifting smoke.
orgasmic vibrational harmony from the 
voices of true believers
unbearable compliments
thrusting you against your seat as you are 
off the ground
bad gin in plastic cups
writing feverishly about weightlessness
over some distant land
fresh black ink on white artist pads
jeff buckley
fuck. bon jovi.
warm november breezes on my birthday 
and the feeling that
is possible in spring
movie nights where we forget about the world and 
quote every line that is woven into the 
tapestry of this unconventional family
my daughter’s laugh when everything is right with the world
cat-pyjama hugs
her serious, steel grey eyes
cup of tea truces
my husband’s arms
his endless forgiveness


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