Dry talking habits. It’s an art form – contrition. We went slow dancing in the dark once: a soldier, a poet, a king. Did you care? Everything stayed. When did it get so normal? My lines feel it all around – Darling! Destroy it! I wrote twenty-one letters, got in my car, and that ghost…
Day: August 24, 2020
Morning Haiku – 43
“The best day ever” My daughter always tells me As the world crumbles.