I won’t carry your words to the mirror.
There’s no room in the silvered glass
for the twisted input of your reflections.
WordCrafters
Thursday, August 6, 2020
Seeing My Truth
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We danced to the end of the world on piano keys warmed by the moon. ©Susie Clevenger 2021 American Sentence: Seventeen syllables The Sunda... -
were it not for rain I wouldn’t know how to bloom where grief seeded me she cried with laughter a healing rain in grief’s drought of withere... -
Rebellion was Joplin and losing pieces of my heart to a crush. Love thought it wanted freedom until rainbows became empty...
