Attached to an idea

She’ll never leave me.

It wasn’t in arrogance.

Committed to our unfoldment.

I’m angry today.

How could she do this to us?

Our family.

He laid between us, deep love inside of a furry four-legged vessel.

My little boy.  Her son.  My best friend.

She’ll come back, won’t she?

The last time we made love she tasted like red wine.

Optimism and blind faith shook with unrealistic expectations – hot mess cocktails.

Wake up!

You’re sober today.

She’s not.

It’s over.

You’re okay.

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