.
at three a.m.
I thought I heard
a flap of wings
soft brush of skin
his voice
but no
he was not there
posted by name of the rose at 2:14 a.m.
soak the edge
The inside of thought is where everything teems and stirs with a thousand cracks is where the water meets the shore like threads pulled taut that soak the edge
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home