Jun 1
Smoldered black roses line your garden,
but I’d plant myself there—
under terrain, dry and bare—
and wait with a parched tongue
until the ash is done
corroding my lungs
from dawn’s burnt sun.
but I’d plant myself there—
under terrain, dry and bare—
and wait with a parched tongue
until the ash is done
corroding my lungs
from dawn’s burnt sun.
