Lost
the garden last night did not look like one with numbered days, but in truth the numbering could have been done in hours or minutes even.
the garden last night did not look like one with numbered days, but in truth the numbering could have been done in hours or minutes even.
Perched on a stool in the morning light, captivated by your hands as they gingerly crack the colorful shells of eggs you gathered yesterday.
the reason I don't sign my name to the contents of my heart is that sometimes they are tangled and sometimes they are dark.
I used to ask permission to say the wrong thing, but then I learned the hard way that the wrong things is rarely advised.
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