Spectre
Did she arrive at dead of night?
Or was night, dead
without her
watching
and
expressions screwed,
crows flew
fanned from coal eyes
passing darkness,
so cold
the river ran,
detritus, marine snow
suspended ex life,
all,
remind me of you.
Poetry by shells
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Written on 2010-08-17 at 00:25
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Editorial Team |
ken d williams |
NicholasG |
jenks |
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by shellsLatest textsReflectionFall and Rise Silent Self Unsettled Taking Control |
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