Of Course I’m Shielding Her, You Broken

For All His Sourness, He Was Ruled By His Heart.

Happy Endings Were Never Handed Out. You Had To Fight For Them, Earn Them With Bruised Hearts And Sacrifices.

She’s Not Much Of A Team Player, More Of A Team Yeller.

Married Pixy, I Told Myself, Forcing My Eyes Back To The Shelf Of Ceramic Animals. Fifty-four Kids. Beautiful Wife, Sweet As Sugar, Who Would Kill Me In My Sleep While Apologizing For It.

God, It Stinks,” I Said, Hand Over My Nose As He Pulled Me Into A Long Step. Al Strode Forward, Head High. “it’s The Stench Of Bureaucracy, My Itchy-witch, And Why I Chose To Go Into Human Resources When But A Wee Lad.