Blankly, gazing out at you Void of everything I once knew. A pickle jar, Emptied. Tongue’s grit Rough and sore. ~~~ Don’t spoil Your sour mood, For me. Or anyone. But lick your lips, And twist tight, What you might. Until the seal stops, And your wounds have healed. ~~~ Words retracted, Or withheld. Kept … Continue reading Pickled Crow – July 26, 2019
I wish you would ask. Just one word. But you don’t, you haven’t, you won’t. You neglect the very thing that’s eating you alive.