Wish i

Could tell her

Stop being sick–it

Hurts far too much,

Okay Emma?

Hurts me


Cuz I’m the one who’s important


I have to work I have to write I have 

So much to do–  and yes, I see it

The me me me–

Shame, oceans of it, storms of angry

Downpours of it

On me.

She can’t speak,

Not yet,

Can’t tell me what she’s feeling, 

How frustrated she is.

Imagine how unnerving that is,

and you can’t imagine how seething

I am with myself–

That I can’t help,

That I can’t do a thing.

That I even thought

In the