"now you're back | You're coming home | Put on my coat | I'm out the door"
my best friend is home.
I can breathe again.
I speak of things i feel, so primordial, that structured expression kills the essence. I speak of things i see. so easy to ignore, yet, so crucial I find release in the seeming disorder of my Poetry; the subtle signs i see.
1 smoke wisps:
sweet and straight from the heart
god bless!
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You whisper your name... but i can't hear it.