A tear is a delicious thing.
Salty, singular.
Dramatic all on its own.
It’s like checking into a hotel for one night.
Dipping your toe into the pond.
A drive-by “hello.”
The well is deep, but we won’t go there today.
We’ll skate on the surface.
It’s enough for now.
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By S. A. Crawfordabout 24 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love this! Your poetry flows.