without song.

evaporated from distances i've yet to measure for they were moving amongst the litany of litterers that insist on interrupting but my tongue comes up short and riles up false extractions against true reactions still freshly birthed and salted to taste but it sure isn't my palette yet i would put it past you to try seasoning this for is the truth necessary in the presence of honesty both acknowledged and abandoned?

 

it is never enough.


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Stephen M
Poetry
Free Verse
writing Stephen M
Doesn't write as much as he should.
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