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I keep my secrets to myself
"We're getting married!" My mother tells me this while we're eating dinner. I looked down at her left hand, yup right there, ring finger. Fuck. Fuck Fuck. I had a hard time keeping my shrimp-scampi settled. There's a garlic taste in my mouth for years whenever "the marriage" is brought up. For my palates sake we only speak of "the marriage" on days when my mother is out shopping, or cutting her toenails in the bathroom over the tub.
( moreeeeeeeeeeeee )
( moreeeeeeeeeeeee )
