carrying--valiant as ants--
relics of their fallen friends.
They see me turn muddy, as I
drink me (60% water, baby)
You'd think I am called grief.
I'm keeping an eye out for you
yearning for you for when you
are already inside (my head)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
meta
I can't believe it has been a week (since my fam arrived, since SLE died... how is life so unrelentingly incessant?). My sister and I to...
No comments:
Post a Comment