They say the Italian girls have hot blood. Oh, how we rage. Our little bodies a violent ray of heat, we love like we burn… blistering.
With my newfound perspective, and remembrance of how lonely and desolate life can be without our love, we bribe the kids with cups of tea and cartoons, and submerge ourselves in our love renewed. As it always will be. As it always has to be. As I will ever keep it. Untattered. Unbroken. Buoyed ...