365 Days of Poetry: Day One-Hundred and Eighteen

can stick in the past.
when emotions aren’t too scarred.

we fall into September moons.
all over the former sky.
so blue, all those days
with you, a perfect periwinkle
behind my mother’s horrified face.

the notorious flasher.
right at her door.
and were we evermore.
were we ever more.
than a false reality.

and will we ever be.
can we ever be.
something in between.

my friend, you need to come.
my friend, you need to heal.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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