Sending Icebergs

It’s like a birth but it is in reverse never gets better, always gets worse

12 notes

dead
black cats
cuddled
in my stomach.

I feel like
seven years
of bad luck
times nine lives

I feel old
and heavy
with woe

I still remember your last breath
hanging around in that living room
I still recreate it night to night
often.

Filed under Poems poetry writing prose

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