The vase in the window squeezes the translucent necks of the
flowers leaving dark green bruises of water ringing around the
rosies.
When you know you can go on because you still see
beauty in grey pavement and orange streetlights. No pocket full of
poses.
The note was nice. Thank you for leaving the first µ
out of beautiful. I'll remember when this is all ashes ashes.
Between a window and a curtain between cotton and
skin between breaths we all fall down.
This poem was written by a Cornell College
student, not Matiss.
|