Red River Follow

Red is my favorite color, red like your mother's eyes after awhile of crying about how you don't love her. She says â€Å"I know I don't deserve supervised sight of her, but each day becomes a blur without my daughter.â€Â Fall is my favorite season, like falling to reasoning why you crashed from on high. She says â€Å"Why is my life so uneven, and what have I done right but given you your life if after I led you on into that bar room?â€Â â€Å"Yesâ€Â is my favorite answer. I took a dancer home, she felt so alone. We stayed up all night in the kitchen doing my dishes, on and on until the dawn. She said â€Å"I know it's easy to have me, but I have seen some things that I can't even tell to my family pictures,â€Â and â€Å"I'm full of fictions and fucking addictionsâ€Â and â€Å"I miss my mother.â€Â She'll never know I could never forget her. If I could write her a letter, I'd try with every line to say â€Å"She still remembers your touch. And I know that it's not much, but you still haven't lost