Dear Mother,
I am at the edge of a precipice.
I have fallen in love.
I had imagined my world
full of notebooks, endless scribbles about floating kisses
and sweaty bedsheets.
Instead I've a desk of bleeding ink, crumbling pens
avalanches of paper...
falling no where in particular.
George.
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Dear George,
Love is a rare and beautiful thing,
worthy of your attention. Tend to it
as a gardener to a rose and watch your
world bloom.
Love and light,
Mother.
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Dear Mother,
Don't send love,
Send money.
Don't send light
Send disarray.
Happiness is a useless muse.
George.
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