A window with no view.
Tears in mason jars.
A plate of crackers and cheese on the bed.
Toe jam,slow jam.
Put your roots in my drinking well,kill my village of thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts in my yard
PoetryThis book is dedicated to relationships, human and substance,it's all the same. Pain will leave enough scar tissue for a suit of armor but love, it is out there.
