TMI all time


I left the remainder of the poem to her. She will give me TMI all the time. I had to guess which side came to the conversation. We sit in church. She wants me to sing along. I want to hold her hand, because we wouldn’t last long. The wife was coming home, supposedly sleeping in the room adjacent. I have heard it all before, mostly from her.

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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