The peeling wood, I wore its eyes in quiet song
Chasing slowly, round in circles tarnished white
and the rust climbed a frame, wishing it was ivy
(as the ghost of a flower mourned)

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. 1emeraldcity
    Aug 04, 2013 @ 21:43:01

    Beautiful, Feltsie! More!

    Reply

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