Last week I saw this sign on a hunting shack in the Louisiana bayou — and it elicited the chuckle it…
Locked up.Locked in.Your door,ㅤ inaccessible.Your heart,ㅤ unreachable.
I can’t call it a fling
The spider sits lazily in the center of the web,
Us,willows,cornered in the spotwherewe oncemelted candies.
I miss us
The funThe laughterThe ease of just being
I have travelled through summer rains.
What is the meaningwhy are we hereshe asks abrupt and unexpectedI feel ithits mesomewheredeep inside
the heart bore the small intestinethe hollowed lines intertwined and festered,a cold footcaught in the stubble of lazy summer calves…
I love it when you drink