Pour Femme

The edges of her were spotlight music to remember and always running to you 

speaking about his raspy voice and 

throat-clearing. Stands. Angry. 

Frustrated. Looks round, they consider buttery 

scrambled eggs on toast, armed with her 

trusty wallpaper stripper she gets to work on the 

Computer: ELECTRIC BRAIN /They thank me for my service.

by Michelle Moloney King first published in The Daily Drunk

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