Through my mother’s thinning hair, I see her scalp, and I realize that I don’t know her at all.
Over and over, like a broken record, with 3 straight glasses of *****, This boy sat on the floor of the living room, and talked about his relationship, “it’s a routine, it’s a pattern, you fall into it, and you just never leave.” but my father walked out, and left me standing in a living room full of boxes, containing his possessions.
And I held my ***** on my last 12 hour drive, my last tree smeared, day dream.
Where the colors all come together in different shades through each leaf.