and I could hear him still
The soft fuzz of his sock padding the hardwood of the floor
Quiet like a phantom I might have imagined if was not for the nudging pressure on my neck
A silent tongue telling me come home with eatch stroke
21 October 2022
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MAUDLIN MAWS▪︎Poetry (3)
PoetryRiddles of the lamented heart I keep preserved in a decent hush of demented peace and quiet. Major tw bitches
