Anna covered her ears with her hands. She was sixteen but felt as helpless as a six-year-old. Her parents’ fighting filtered through her closed door, her hands. She closed her eyes and hummed, but she couldn’t block them out. She knew this could go on for hours and she couldn’t stand it, not for another … More A Kiss Forgotten.
we may all speak different languages, but pain is universal and tears are spoken by all. (A micro-poem by Rochelle Sharpe.)