You are the charcoal vine that outlines me.
Your fingers give me contrast,
With each placement of them, thick like cigars,
My back arches, and I open.
Like the larkspur.
what goes in must come out!!
You've survived what you thought would destroy you. Now...get the fuck up, dust yourself off, and keep pushing forward...
What I've always wanted
A site for poetry and other stuff
Not a dealer - downsizing and have some spare antiques