The glass
Blown glass
Made of fire made of sand
Touch of iron
Red lines
Scorching across
The blue blue sky
Streach so thin
To make a bend
Back before the break
Rounded edge
To carass the lips
Of whatever stranger takes her
Cool down
Quiet sounds
Breath in not out
Burned skin, callous lies
About how fine it is
Made of fire made of sand
Touch of iron
Red lines
Scorching across
The blue blue sky
Streach so thin
To make a bend
Back before the break
Rounded edge
To carass the lips
Of whatever stranger takes her
Cool down
Quiet sounds
Breath in not out
Burned skin, callous lies
About how fine it is
posted by achromic at 6:18 PM
3 Comments:
Hey, sweetie. It's been awhile since I caught up with you, but I wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you and hoping you are getting better by the day.
Wow.
That was stunning.
Wondering how you are doing...have not heard from you on AA or here for too many days. Praying for your good health and spirit! Blessings
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