My Finest Moment

Am I my own worst disaster?

Am I the uneaten, rotten cherries in the bowl that is shared, but everyone else gets the ripened red ones?

Have I only made my bed full of nails that scratch my beautiful skin at will?

Do I always hurt my great self of worth?

Why do people look my way and like me because I have? Why is it that now they like me?

Walking is a piece of what we do. Liking is done by compassion.

I have seen. I have smiled. I now realize I'm trying too hard to be nice to all of the assholes in this life.

I'm done. I'm tired. I'm so fucking sick of all the fake people that couldn't give a fuck about me...

Now I am finding a place to disappear in with my only one. He's a part of me.

He is my finest moment...

He's my husband.