When did all of this start?I would have marked the occasion.Why do I cry for you or for me?I’m already gone, and it’s what it is to be.What it is ...o meIs ability to not miss a thing.But how did I get to this,To sometimes miss this thing, to be moreThan a bit unseen, obscene, unclean, unloved,Under things that eat my soul,Just like, to me, you’ve always done.I’m undone.I’m already over, but I’m under,And I know I’m notThe only one. Painted on My LipsI still have your kissPainted on my. I nibble your beautiful butt and you turn around and laugh. I move to your side, place one hand under your shoulders and the other under your knees. I lift you and stand up straight, holding you cradled in my arms. You have a surprised look on your face. “Shhh,” is all I say. I carry you outside, onto the veranda, overlooking Mother Nature in all her glory. While you were sleeping I moved the other mattress outside, and placed it in the shade and covered it with clean sheets and soft pillows.. More

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