There is no door locked to me, this mist of union pervading every motion. An eternal, ever-changing mold. I am this writer, these words, your eyes, your breath. Here I am. Breathe me.
What Remains
Originally published: Dec 2002
Originally published: Dec 2002
There is no door locked to me, this mist of union pervading every motion. An eternal, ever-changing mold. I am this writer, these words, your eyes, your breath. Here I am. Breathe me.