She is old.
(She is legal.)
She has all the features of the ungroomable girls and even more.
She misses Dad.
She needs dangerous dissociatives to function.
She can't get her life in order,
I love her too.
She is light as a feather, and short, but a fighter, a survivor.
She told me to sleep next to her that night.
We talked. We cuddled.
She was warm. She was soft. I kissed her hair.
I want to tell her it's all right. I want to be there for her.
I want to spend a month with her. To set her on the right path.
I want... her dark, soft skin next to mine. Her bony figure snuggling against me.
I want to tell her she can still be the best that she can be.
And that I'll be there for her.
I want to hold her hand, close my eyes, and that we pull together out of the abyss.
I'll be there for her. I swear.
Monkey Girl, I do love you.
Not the way I love your little sisters, but I love you.
And, at the same time, I know you understand my love for you better than your little sisters, does that make sense?