Stretch

Honor the ache. Are those too strong a words, honor, ache? Present, sounds sweep and tidy. Notice the rotting panels, peeling paint, unsettling tangle in throat and belly. With wound and tremble tongue, time unravels, scatters dandelion white. After spiraled knots, moth holes swell and fray, what will you do with freedom?

 

 

 

Categories: Poetry, Reflection, Writing

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