hold the
- 13 hours ago
- 1 min read
inhale
dusted scents
spined words
stacked ribs
against the walls
of the third
floor
inside a
mustard house
with rufous
trim
my grandparents
no longer
live in
I skip
a song
and
taste
the beginning
of a melody
the sour
taste of
shallow graves
pets with
simple names
who boarder
childrens
home
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