By the time I butt out the roach I’m silently crying. My heart hurts for the loss of our relationship. But I’ve managed without his guidance. Kept out of prison. Stayed off the streets. Found a woman to love. And to love me back. It’s not all bad. I’m not completely alone. Or totally lost.
And I need all the reasons I can find not to hate myself. But it’s hard. Even the idea makes me shiver. Because I see loving myself like looking down on others. Riding around on a high horse. And I never want to think I’m better then the people I see on the street. The ones who have it rough. The ones who don’t fit in. The ones I see my own face in.
Comments
Post a Comment