Red is my favorite color, red like your mother's eyes after awhile of crying about how you don't love her. She says âЂŒI know I don't deserve supervised sight of her, but each day becomes a blur without my daughter.âЂќ Fall is my favorite season, like falling to reasoning why you crashed from on high. She says âЂŒWhy is my life so uneven, and what have I done right but given you your life if after I led you on into that bar room?âЂќ âЂŒYesâЂќ is my favorite answer. I took a dancer home, she felt so alone. We stayed up all night in the kitchen doing my dishes, on and on until the dawn. She said âЂŒI know it's easy to have me, but I have seen some things that I can't even tell to my family pictures,âЂќ and âЂŒI'm full of fictions and fucking addictionsâЂќ and âЂŒI miss my mother.âЂќ She'll never know I could never forget her. If I could write her a letter, I'd try with every line to say âЂŒShe still remembers your touch. And I know that it's not much, but you still haven't lost her.âЂќ
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