by Paul Tristram / April 2nd, 2017 I cwtched* up close behind her,feeling the waves crash deep withinher shaking, cut-up skin.As she rocked, gently,going nowhere but hammock-ridingher soul into a desperate lullaby.I’m the only person she can standto have near when she’s fragile…I never frown at her sighs,and accept her flaws for what they are…stumbling … Continue reading Watching Old Black And White Ealing Comedies Saved Her From Self Harming, Again