Tag Archives: ache

Outlet

Kiss my shame, she said, the moistened outlet to my sealed-in history, run your tongue, but gentle now, gentle, over my heart-shaped booboo, make it sing, as if the moon, a secret maestro, was drawing the most beautiful notes from … Continue reading

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Braid

How quickly we forget the nearness of grief, and remember, with rated thorns, a past nettled to braid.

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