Tempt

outside writing through my ash
blowing to see the words
misspelt in my dreaming
How lonley    A      the a stands
Hugging i's like ink tree
what fingers hollow
will i fill
tilted head crooked
next line flows like
the bunched satin curls
seeing snowflakes from within
so what words of wanton
will said
juice you
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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