That first night
you turned your back
and my arm fell off
in bed, we
were made statues
then like brittle, precious
things put away for
safe-keeping, hard
to move.
Categories: poetry
That first night
you turned your back
and my arm fell off
in bed, we
were made statues
then like brittle, precious
things put away for
safe-keeping, hard
to move.
Categories: poetry
approach again. the statues could warm up and move.
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I like that Beth!
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