Sun peaks, pale yellow flakes
on the sheets. He sings something,
chills succumb me to the breeze, breaks apart his
w o r d s.
YOU ARE READING
Glass prints.
Poetrytold me to swirl, let the air circle my waist and mold my legs. reach the ceiling, jump and flex. told him to slide on dust, extend his hands, my fingertips grasp. look into my pupils, watch the sunrise fall to dusk.
06:21
Sun peaks, pale yellow flakes
on the sheets. He sings something,
chills succumb me to the breeze, breaks apart his
w o r d s.
