my shadow is tallshe can reach all the glasseson the top shelf she fills them to the brimwith strong cocktailsbecause alcohol doesn’tbother her stomach,and neither does anyquantity or combination of food she drives fastand says “f*ck it”more than I do, becausethat field of hers really is barrenand she lords over ita lanky scarecrow inbright redContinue reading “Shadow”
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
The Poetry Patio 