You may talk about me behind my back.
I love.
You may judge me harshly having never walked in my shoes.
I love.
You may erroneously think you know me.
I love.
You may feel I’m a poor excuse for a mother.
I love.
You may feel I’m a dreadful wife.
I love.
You may fear my expansion.
I love.
You may not like who I am.
I love.
You may call me a complainer.
I love.
You may find me distasteful.
I love.
You may mock me.
I love.
You may not understand me.
I love.
You may question my character.
I love.
It’s the only thing
to do.
I
love.
You.
