Yes, that Chelsea Barraco. Whatever that means.
Writers, angsty twenty-somethings, bored folks at work, CEOs, soccer moms, stay-at-home dads, local celebrities, local nobodies, artists, no-talent assclowns, readers, homebodies, busybodies, bleeding heart liberals, open minded conservatives, musicians, bartenders, friends, neighbors, strangers, hard-workers, chicks, dudes, trannies, foodies, winos, punks, scrubs, and many more are welcome here.
Layla
She is my dearest possession and my best friend.
She is extraordinary and she is mine
I have raised her from the beginning
I remember her, like an orange in my palm
Teaching her gently
Showing her the world little by little
A rocky beach, a crowded wood
open fields lit by campfire, even the balmy autumn grime in New York City.
She is by my side through everything.
When I am sad. Lonely. Angry. Ugly.
Lost.
She is there.
To look with adoring eyes
happy just to be close by.
To feel my palm on her back.
To hear a kind word in her perfect velvety ear.
I need her as much as she needs me.
And maybe more...
