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Perfectionism is to live your life as a constant apology.
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The Letter T. The Letter H.
What a funny combination Standing Apart A percussion And a Woodwind But together An elision of steam reduced by simmer into a once distilled syrup passed over by most diners Why then? Should one choose the other if the price of marriage is Power Breath Air (Gasp) Shall I speak of love? For what is love, if not a soul's reduction? A softening of the morsels we had come to live by Now a stew of roasted garlic and celery. To think of all that is lost I question what is to be gained The wind howling for a home And in the timpani echoes Find Me, Hold Me, Soften Me. |
AuthorQueer. he/him. Good witch. Archives
October 2022
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