The life of a wife and mother

I don't know where I have my head sometimes, but this week has been too much for me. I missed 2 appointments I almost lost my phone and I feel like the days are short, or is it just me? I don't have time for anything, I don't have time! I keep telling my self 😧. I wish I could just pile all this shit together. Oh what a wonderful life it wold be if I was more like Genie. That one show with the woman that moves her nose and shit gets done. I wish my husband was more affectionate, more...passionate. I think I need a vacation.

Me my self and I.

I cook with love, I care with passion,  I love unconditionally and yet I suffer.

A heart that returns to the ruins of her own destruction, I suffer in the mist of my own.

Clinging on to what should be, and could of been. I hold tight to myself and I suffer in the mist of my own destruction. 

Flowers to the ded

Don't bring me flowers if you've done something wrong,  if you have yet to say your sorry and believe a rose will do.

Flowers are supposed to be happy a symbol of love, friendship, happiness, and gratitud.

Don't bring me flowers when there's nothing left to say, and this disappointment won't sway away.

You have not mastered the art of a worthy man.