“Waiting,” by Bridget Lowe
My first great love was a drunk. Her long dark hairfalling over my face. But even that is made up. My mother wore her hair short. She used to cut...
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My first great love was a drunk. Her long dark hairfalling over my face. But even that is made up. My mother wore her hair short. She used to cut...
Read MoreEnd of content
No more pages to load