My responses tend to be glib, or poignant, or what the hell ever, but this story is such a vulnerable baring of a private and intimate… wound(?)… loss(?)… desire(?) I have no pithy response. Any response I might make is unnecessary and irrelevant. I have no words.

But I will say this — through your poetry, I have come to care for you, Anna Now.

There. That’s it. I care about you, and I am honored to know more about how you became the tender, honest, brazen, soulful poet that you are, and I am so sorry for the pain you suffered as you evolved. I wish we lived closer. I would drive over right now and hug you. You seem to be wrestling with some personal demons. Be strong, be well, take care of yourself.

Writing about life and love, along with a few crazy stories just for fun.

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