I'm not the wife.
Not the lover.
Not the fiancée.
Not the girlfriend.
I’m the maid.
I’m the nanny.
The garbage at home.
I am the disappointing expectation.
Nothing is ever enough.
I am a broken doll.
I am missing an eye.
I am missing a jaw.
I am missing an arm.
I am missing a heart.
You keep me on the shelf.
To sleep in the dust of our memories.
About the Creator
Molly Angie Moustafa
Greetings. I passionate about the art of the pen. I write from the heart with ideas of endless realms.
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven2 days ago in Fiction
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