fell is the swoop of my word against yours
autumn, caught 'em
how the rhyme finaled the end
with a swathe of reds, oranges,
tongues of cold wind on our napes,
the music of dead leaves beneath our young feet
the persistence of being earnest
-
Sometimes I swear it is easy to just give up whenever the universe is
sending me signals that it doesn’t care about what I’m trying my best to
accomplish—m...
4 comments:
The colors of autumn describing the pain... beautiful!
crimson flames tied through my ears.
rollin' high and mighty traps.
pounced with fire on flaming roads...
what happened to "we talked once"? it was so plath-ish. i love it!
That's one melancholic autumn you got there. Nice.
Thanks for the blog visit by the way.:)
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