BleachA Poem by Fire&Ice
My mother used a lot of bleach.
Enough bleach to burn holes right through me. She'd see the stains in me, the stains in her. She'd drizzle some detergent, then baste us in bleach. For a time, we were both colorless. and that's when I left.
© 2012 Fire&Ice |
StatsAuthorFire&IceMAAbout"You've got enemies? Good. That means you actually stood up for something in your life." more..Writing
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