... a starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.
Today life opened inside me like an egg.
All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.
The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.
Craft is a trick you make up to let you write the poem.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.