a range of
internal rows
between the
precious state
his eyes
found the secret
to me
they stopped short
the last of sweetened portraits
lie in their step
crushed by their nature
caused by you
flutter though my butterfly
your silky wings
only served some gold
the face flooded
a sudden paleness
she can hear us now
through colors unborn
-kyoko cole
2018
. . . but here I go anyway.
Poetry and fiction not intended for the masses — Sam M. Phillips
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