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graveofversionsPoems
the shadow of her throat, tied to a creaking branch, hurls the sense out of me the gust of her passes through my frayed robe jolting me to hear the twangs of threads in it
0
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 1:16 PM UTC
The Frayed Robe
the shadow of her throat, tied to a creaking branch, hurls the sense out of me the gust of her passes through my frayed robe jolting me to hear the twangs of threads in it
Archived from The Grave of Versions on Substack.
#shadows#visceral#haunting#loss
Written by
graveofversions
20
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 1:16 PM UTC
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