The grass. The mirror. The food.
I take a sip of them one by one.
My sister's hair on the tile floor. The smell of burnt cookies.
Are golden gifts of incarnation.
The river that runs through the other side of town.
I hear him.
Your tears recoil in silence.
My hands could dive in their void.
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 12:52 PM UTC
The grass. The mirror. The food.
I take a sip of them one by one.
My sister's hair on the tile floor. The smell of burnt cookies.
Are golden gifts of incarnation.
The river that runs through the other side of town.
I hear him.
Your tears recoil in silence.
My hands could dive in their void.
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