hands in the garden

stippled ceilings-

prickly feelings in
the depths,

quickened
breaths,

headlights gloss
a window
pane-

sweat stains an
unmade
bed.

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s