LXVI.
and when it all blew over,
i was just a piece of debris
caught up in your affairs and i realised why hurricanes
were named after people
A+B
YOU ARE READING
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...
LXVI
LXVI.
and when it all blew over,
i was just a piece of debris
caught up in your affairs and i realised why hurricanes
were named after people
A+B
