Our worlds
have gotten small.
Pinpricks of light through painted windows.
So much of what I loved
about mine
is gone.
It’ll return, perhaps,
but after I’ve already
packed my furniture
and left.
alone together alone: a poem
Fiction and Travel.
Our worlds
have gotten small.
Pinpricks of light through painted windows.
So much of what I loved
about mine
is gone.
It’ll return, perhaps,
but after I’ve already
packed my furniture
and left.
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