Posted in Poetry
I watch her puffher cigaretteswhile she secretlyinhales the fireas it eases the thunderunderneath her tongue. She fills her pocketsas deep as her mindfinds the soil to dig,and closes her
Posted in Poetry
I never really needthe weather forecastto tell me it’sgoing to rain. I can tell by the waymy joints hug each othertoo tight for comfortto keep each otherfrom getting wet. Time is not linearwhen you