Watching Myself on a Saturday
Rain shatters against the stones
she’s just walked over.
Her hands are twisted
into winter roots by her side,
locked in place,
crackling with the need to stretch. Continue reading
Literary as hell.
Rain shatters against the stones
she’s just walked over.
Her hands are twisted
into winter roots by her side,
locked in place,
crackling with the need to stretch. Continue reading
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