Strangers tell her she has nothing to be sad about. She’s alive, isn’t she? She deep throats the night, watches the flowers bloom, stands at the window, imagining what it would be like to be over.
Each dead person she knows grins at her from the grave. She’s buried them over and over. The moon lights her face, says there’s nothing to be sad about, but all she is is an empty pitcher, a birdless nest
Angelic (Angie) Armendariz currently works as an Editor and Comic Book Manager while pursuing her MFA at UNO. She has 3 doggie furkids that are spoiled rotten.
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