Our Daughters and Lemonade.

Lying with eyes wide open, I know every CRACK and every corner of my bedroom ceiling.

Again I am here in the sticky heat awake, frustrated, yearning for what, I don’t quite know.

I am thirsty, but there is never enough water to quench it.

These past few months I have connected with something almost biblical. Very deep inside, it rolls around and around and whilst overwhelming, manages to also feel like a long slow torturous burn.

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