In the dead of night she sits there. Restless. Masked in a shadow of anxiety and insecurity. She's drowning in it, but still she sits.
By Jessica Rasile7 years ago in Poets
Watching you take your little feet and make your way across the floor, watching the joy in your eyes as I watch you learn more.
I ache for her. I see the sadness in her eyes, and mine water. I hear the missing laughter from her voice, and mine cracks.
Early mornings, cold coffee. This bus ride is always so long, but I have time to kill. The noise from the engine helps to distract me from my thoughts.