Apr 2022
The smoke curls.
I imagine I ride up it.
I ride. Swirl.
Curl as an incense scent.
Her sins, my sins, your sins.
I don't expect you
to understand.
Sara Fielder © Apr 2022
I imagine I ride up it.
I ride. Swirl.
Curl as an incense scent.
Her sins, my sins, your sins.
I don't expect you
to understand.
Sara Fielder © Apr 2022
