I walked for hours last night.
The whiteness of birch, bleached limbs that crawl like spilled milk over the sky. I was thinking of your arms and legs, that night, how I would gather them in towards me, how they came together and moved apart lazily but with ease. I spread them around me and breathed in your hair while you laughed and I sighed. Do you remember that? You must.
1 Comments:
thanks dad ... you should have signed it under a pen name though. ha ha ha
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