Saturday, June 2, 2012


My L. is lost
inside her mind,
her vision isn’t clear.

She’s drunk again
and yelling loud,
to the figure in the mirror.

My L. is tired
and fading fast,
the mirror has won again.

She staggers over
next to me,
I catch her just in time.

My L. is trouble
I should have left her,
alone, a long time ago.

But L. is mine
and no one else,
gets to take her home.

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