the final breath

by on January 16, 2019 :: 0 comments

remember
not born
what ground
founded
i listen
in goodness now
we all change
i miss you
all
and your paper airplane
suicide notes
wish
you were by the fire
here
with
me
in glorious
form
even
in
time
away
from here
there
with
a
wish
i
we
had typewriter
bodies
playing
hushed
to the point around that door
memories
reborn
again

editors note:

It’s all a matter of how long we can hold it, right? (Or, how much we can type before we run out of paper?) – mh clay

Leave a Reply