holes

I fall into holes with him every few years bent backwards, doubled over never faces meeting but minds perhaps  

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He

is not my firstborn, he is my ultimate. He is the point of every miscarriage, every failed test, every drunken shag, every sober shag, every kiss, every ounce of love, every thought for 8 years, every ovulation pain, every pain at the absence of ovulation, every wish I wasn't drunk, every cause for being drunk,… Continue reading He