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Listen
I’m tired of her
I’m tired of hearing her
I’m tired of seeing her
Since she’s on her way to good health
or on her way to not-so-bad health
Her complaining and her refusals
are symptoms of a petulant child
I have no patience for
Since she’s going anyway
I wish her gone already
So
he’ll be leaving soon
when he’s been gone
all along.
For a flash of a second, someone turned the blaring overhead lights on when I had painstakingly taken measures to make sure the room was dim.
Low lighting hides all flaws or at the very least, softens them. What’s seen in starkness is garish but undeniably true. I only meant for him to take refuge in the illusion. But.
One can’t un-see what they have seen.
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: