Hello Nicole,

Its been a while since I've thought of your name... Today I read a poem that brought tears to my eyes at the thought of you, but I refused to let them fall.

I am alway's being told to forgive you, by clueless friends and family, that you were young and didn't know any better. But hell, you were old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Plenty old enough to use some basic common sense. Common sense such as

"Dont leave your 2 year old daughter in the car in the summer for hours on end"

"Dont leave your 3 year old daughter at the park overnight"

"Dont bring your 4 year old daughter to the house of your married lover"

"Dont take your 5 year old daughter to a ******* and leave her in the car"

"Dont allow your ******* of a drug dealer to care for your baby girl"

Last year in total you sent me 6 packages, called 8 times, wrote 5 letters, wrote or spoke I Love You 16 times, and yet not once did you apologize. On the 8th call, you told me you were pregnant again, and it was going to be a baby girl. I cried harder than I ever had before on that one phone call. You asked if I was happy that I would get another sister, and as calmly as possible I told you I hope the baby is stronger than all the rest, and to lose my ******* number.

A total of 4 children, 3 of which you don't even see anymore. You allowed us to go through hell and beyond in your care, only to be tossed away into a somehow even more unfortunate lifestyle. Yet you somehow expect me to be happy for your pregnancy of a brand new lifeform.

The baby is now alive and kicking,  and I heard she looks exactly like me even though her father was as Mexican as they come. I also heard you get ****** when people compare me and the baby's looks.
Good.
I hope she is a reminder of what you did to me, so that maybe, just maybe, you treat her right.

I wish I could say I wish you the best in life, but that would be a lie. I do hope you get better, for the sake of everyones lives around you. It was nice not talking to you again.

No longer your's,
Victoria-Rose

Love is like water.
It has no colour, no smell, no taste.
It is neutral in everything.
There is no joy in love, nor any sorrow.
The only thing we gain from love itself
Is the relief, like drinking a cool glass of water
On a hot, relentless day, or for some,
A desperate need for quenching the thirst
Of one who was dying of dehydration.
Besides that, all else is down to the person you love;
What you love about them is what turns the water blue, red,
Or the colour of galaxies.

A pulse is
something you can put your finger on,
but an impulse is something you go on,
an idea that takes you from here,

I was there once on the off chance
that here was a chance
but in the end there was
no chance,

I take no risks,
my finger's always
on the trigger,
safety off.

We have to be and play safe
this is no place for kitty cats
or scaredy cats
that's as plain as day.

Some breathe fear and
some breathe fire
I do neither,
ice folds itself in and
my skin is **** frost

nor am I lost or found
and
the only sound
is you telling me
another
crossword clue

the answer is in five letters

counting down from now
finger
trigger
some things are bigger
than
the moment.

Blue orbs of blue
eyes of oceans
eyes of skies
eyes of winter
eyes of ice

Green orbs of green
eyes of grass
eyes of lime
eyes of moss
eyes of thyme

Brown orbs of brown
eyes of chocolate
eyes of rust
eyes of tree-roots
eyes of dust

Caffeine
a pen
I yawn and then
yawn again

nothing flows out except
mothballs

cloth ears they called me
deaf to their pleas
but
I was as different as
chalk is to cheese.

I yawn once more while
weevils bore into my brain
and yawn again.

The snipers have got me
shot me on Monday
sometimes I wish
I was
Solomon
Grundy

then I fall
into the week
because I'm weak
or antique
couldn't hold on to
the
yawn again
dawning on me that
what I see is
what I'll be
by Friday.