A poem from the book “The Universe Inside Her II: A Book of Unsorted Poetic Letters”
Tag: prose
And it kills me to remember you shaking your head, after you came to me in tears, and walking out that door to never come knocking again.
…
I still want to grow old with you if you’ll let me. If you’ll help me rebuild these broken pieces of this once-most-beautiful home.
Popp!nTalk 