When the horizon shatters the earth in its sunlight
and the blue, like ink down a plughole drains
into a pastel white spring morning, she will have left.
And I will wander home.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
When the horizon shatters the earth in its sunlight
and the blue, like ink down a plughole drains
into a pastel white spring morning, she will have left.
And I will wander home.
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