spilling red waves

Her tears fall down from heaven in streams, my shame eats at my soul. Please, oh please, forgive this daughter of yours, mother, while I try working hard for a new day. Hear my cries and end the streams, of this never-ending sorrow. I promise to wake up soon, one day, never spilling red waves…

sisters age?

My sister was born when I was 15, now she thinks I’m┬áthe one who’s 15 and she’s 35, sigh Sisters never have an age, we’re forever-by-blood-heart-and-birth and linked, ageless See my dears, sisters are like fine wine, and we wine well too – “she took my wifi!” My little sister just today said, so politely,…