365 Days of Poetry: Day One-Hundred and Ninety-Four

numb hands.
numb dream.
see the broken bits.
scattered across a floor.
I swept rose petals off of.
two months ago.

they were scattered.
not like a path.
more like a bloody end.
friends, we can be.
friends, we should be.
friends, we must be.
friends, for anger kills.


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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