Gertrude stein (Remove filter)
Picking Fruit
A field of choices
Rotten cherries scatter us
Piercing white noise breathing
Bow to the mirror
Heart stops, feet sinking
I hope you love loneliness.
Cloud kisses turn into lemons
Miles to go
Sheets that resume the velvet
Digging.
Never going.
Wheels that turn gold into rust
Frazzled metal pieces
Doors less traveled
Turn off the questions
Faucets drip
...Monday 14th May 2018 8:25 pm
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