The windows, the starving windows that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.
Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen, who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat, who never lived and yet outlived her time, hating men and dogs and Democrats.
Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
sorrow is easier than guilt.