You were
the flower
I was taunted
to pick—
but then thought
the garden
would be shy
of one beauty
if I took you
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
ПоэзияI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
