How else do you
expect me to
give up on you,
when every time
I step back worlds
from you, the
universe conspires
with me and drags
you back again
in my orbit?
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoesieI 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?
