XVI.
my cousin told me that rain-droplets are fallen star pieces.
i open my umbrella upside down to catch the tiny balls of light.
i figure i'll give them to the man who collects stars,
so he can make his own.
B
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fifteen (XV)
Poetryi prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
