Share Facebook Twitter Pinterest Email My elbows rest on the windowsill, painted hard white, and through its glass conjoined flowers bloom between rocks backlit by dusk. We are friction, softening. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related Your name Your email Subject Your message (optional) Author alison miller Prev Post Dear Dad, August 1, 2022 Next Post Requiem September 17, 2022 Related Posts Interview with BarBar Magazine April 30, 2024 Flowering, (adj.) March 10, 2024 The 10 Best Songs Ever in the World October 26, 2023 Comments are closed.
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