She has a mind for corners
& dying cigarettes
Half bent on the grass
Like an archway to the bees
Swollen- trotted
it’s always-something
she calls on him
& hears his voice
Though never sees his face
Her finger laces the air
She moans – I’m such a liar!
The deer scatter, a window opens
The sun setting like it’s broken.
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5 comments:
beautiful poem :)you are talented!!
Notes She Wrote
Love your writing.
This is beautiful! So glad I found your blog.
Very pretty.
just beautiful.
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