One Fresh Hell, Hold the Tomatoes

Yearning for my partner’s support and the kind of tender and caring love many of which many metastatic sisters write and blog about, I now look over at him, home in bed, and find one whose dark, inky emotions remain locked away inside his heart, like the stars behind clouds in a dark night sky. He lays there disengaged, thinking to himself about things that cause long bouts of sighing, and the simmering anger of so many men who find themselves bitten by such disorders.

Sloop John B. aka Let Me Go Home

So hoist up the John B’s sail See how the main sail sets Call for the Captain ashore Let me go home, let me go home I want to go home Well I feel so broke up I want to go home Hoist up the John-b sail. See how the main sail sets, I groan […]

The Longest Goodbye

He called it the longest goodbye. When my husband came to me in the kitchen he looked fore lorn, bright blue eyes spilling clear Caribbean blue waters down the white smooth skin of his cheeks. Waves hitting the sand.  His emotions, usually saved for “some other time,” overwhelmed and weighed heavy on me and pulled […]

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