365 Days of Poetry: One-Hundred and Twenty

Didn’t mean to write a poem for my bud Corey, but it kinda worked out that way.

the spiral
downward to
happiness in slavery.

suck the becoming.
still in.
the fragile.

to all that could have been.
piggies hurt.
ghosts are.
the nothing.

something I can never have.

He’ll know why I said it ended up being for him.


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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