I opened,
inhaled
understood,
and
my floor was not
grass, and my sky was
low, my heart
cracked in that old
lost line of
withering
with the withoutness
of you.
I opened,
inhaled
understood,
and
my floor was not
grass, and my sky was
low, my heart
cracked in that old
lost line of
withering
with the withoutness
of you.
I’m so sorry the seagull’s best was taken away!
My, what striking prose seeps from these pain pits.
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Thanks, husband.
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