*
Hey, Poppy. It's been a while, doing this confiding business with you. And tonight I'm expressing quarrel woes.
I hate fighting with him. The aftermath of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, drying the back of my throat.
I'm feeling like a burst balloon, my heart dying with anxiety.
Wish you could talk back to me Poppy, and not leaving me feeling stupid and disgusted for asking you - an inanimate object, to help me out.
Night, Poppy.
~*~