XLIV.
"absolution," he whispered.
absolution won't wait for me,
but the wind will.
i watched in silence as the apple of his throat crushed against the cream of his collar,
and consume the words only to digest them in my arms further.A
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fifteen (XV)
Poesíai prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
XLIV.
XLIV.
"absolution," he whispered.
absolution won't wait for me,
but the wind will.
i watched in silence as the apple of his throat crushed against the cream of his collar,
and consume the words only to digest them in my arms further.A