365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Twenty-One

another anniversary of an end.
you know, I think I.
threw the ring on the eighteenth too.
and we started then, I.
was joking when I said.
there was no memory.
eighteen is not my number.
the worst age that happened to me.
maybe I’ve been lost since.
like all bad luck, it keeps.
popping up–ages don’t have heads.
to rear ugly and frightening.
around the turn of days.


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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