top of page
confessions of a fallen angel
Violet Hetherington
mother, I’m sorry I stopped calling.
eternity is hard to chew. It gets
stuck in my molars.
inside my head, all I see is
storms. rumbling, thundering,
black as an oil spill. I try to
grasp onto something.
time moves slow and
wild, erratic. please leave my
wings by the door.
bottom of page