He speaks with a purpose that dema… with soft, soliloquy of word to sh… the emulsification, the blood of b… and women carrying the weight of m… Storyteller. Anthropologist.
it is a numbing a piercing of the proverbial heart with aching, dull shard a cold depth swallowing lungs contract, fluid-filled
yes... a million times over, I sai… to him, to them to everyone, to no one I gave pieces of me Perhaps
it was a blank page. Her hardened gaze caused no words to appear. No flourishing language to embellish the explanation.No distractions to explain the lack of written monologue. Not even...
for the beauty of the day we wept huddled mass one, singular in thought we
his exit, his entrance stars in solemn shades countdown in pink orbs we, burning out suns commencing solitude
She saw them fishing poles in hand, walking fro… Fingers, gnarled, crippled with the passing of age. The skin around their eyes, a cany…
and in that tear, everything broke every shard of pain, every loss the losses yet to come her voice, her heart caught
all the poetry inside, the curtain… dropping dusty upon the frailty of my words the world, too old my thoughts, too young, too same
eyes awaken, asleep. I dream the taste of purple I dream the touch of you. I dream of tall grass fields on my… shuddering in magnificent breath.
fallible fallen features flawless foes feel, feel, feel formulated
The touch that spans length and difference I feel the distance that he holds captive in heart and… one reach, one touch
The metaphorical heart Burnt in frozen grasp As the stale air, travels, labored far from memories, moments of horror caught
base of an eggshell in a portrait of painting she is pure canvas had I been a painter she would direct turpentine
there is a chamber there is a heart we dream it we taste it ours, unconditionally