(alternatively titled: "we're indirecting each other through poems again")
we're quiltwork torn to shreds
i have no idea how to stitch these back together
do these pieces of cloth even belong to the same tapestry?
i don't give a shit
i'll burn this fucking tapestry down to ashes just to talk to you the same way we used to again
YOU ARE READING
FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poésie"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry
