Your Mother's Other Daughter

A collection of rose petal poems.


7. Sunday Morning

He tells me he loves me

I say it, too

I don’t like being lonely

He keeps me from feeling blue


He tells me he misses me

I say I miss him, too

there’s beauty in feeling free

but I can’t feel that way with you


Because when the truth takes off its glove

and it comes down to the fall

being with someone that you don’t love

is better than being with no one at all.

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