I wish I had a room no one can ask me to clear out or a wardrobe with ironed clothes and a sweet smelling pair of shoes
Tag: Woman
Poem: Aborted
Another child? Eyebrows raised. Our Eyelids sank Ashamed! Depths of her womb cringed, Two sad gasps echoed. Umbilical chord, a tight rope Amniotic liquid, dessert of poison. Hands Unloved, Unkissed.
