i’m a wilted rose
plucked, discarded, left exposed
-sweet scent of decay
The Sunday Mourning Paper
farewell to spring
slave driver
look at what came in the mail today.
dry fire, cold start. flat tire, dead heart.
a change of hands, a passing glance. let’s lay among the lilacs. fill my ears with your pretty small talk.
give me love laced with lies.
does anyone look at this anymore??
do i post more artwork??
see
