Someone I love is dying. I’ve been processing with bad poetry, decent musical renditions, and emotional calls with friends. The writing helps, and maybe the sharing does, too. So here we go. TW: Talk of death and dying. TW: Self indulgence TW:
Flight attendant life can be a lonely one. Or so they say. I wrote this poem a couple years ago, processing my feelings about life on the road. Of the loneliness my peers talked about that I couldn’t seem to