Storm Cloud Pat
the second Pat walks into the room
I sense the cloud that is over her head
It is gray, gloomy, full of grouse and gripes
She does not have to open her mouth
for me to recognize it is there
a storm ready to burst open
flooding the room with negativity
trying to flush away all laughter and mirth
I run from the room the second I see her
My feelers on “ready alert”
flight or fight popping in and out of my brain
I know Pat, I used to live with her.
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