Sounds all mute,
Cocooned inside skeleton mouth.
Tongue bit
between tooth and lip.
Hid behind the wall,
the sun is to low
to warm my insides.
Carriage breezes
sticks hair to my expression.
Book in my bag,
forms of escape.
Remove the cloud layer,
thick rolling up there.
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1 comments:
"Carriage breezes
sticks hair to my expression."
I love that :)
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