Some Other Time

I tell him I’ve been looking for him for years now. That my search for him has taken me to empty narrow streets, big bright cities, foreign countries, then hell and back.  That ever since he left me, I’ve looked on top of the tallest mountains and dug the depths of my soul searching.

The things I write about.

But if you catch hold of me in the dead middle of the night and cut me open, you will find a little girl that is questioning it all. Do I see you in the desperation of an addict? In the screams of a quite child?