Aspiring YA author, lover of life and people, striving to do good every day. Visit me at www.abbyjewett.com
Your regret planted indesert cacti, in spiked inhalesthat cleaved your lungs.
You are my Nation,or so I’d imagine.Our kingdom is moldedfrom memories grown cold.
Mamma says to him, “She needs blood.”Pacing on stocky, short legs,he looks for answersto the puzzle’s question.