250619
250619 poem stories
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claerwen
claerwen Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   7 months ago
About the old weird poems I used to write

250619

So I'm working my way to it

I'm slowly preparing

Picking at the stitches that pull the lips closed

And listening at the old door.

The handle is cold and metal,

The wood heavy and warped.

There's alot in there

There's alot to come.

I'm not sure yet, If I'm ready to combat this all, entirely

But I'm at the door

I'm at the peephole

I'm seeing the fish-bowled past

The old me.

I'll meet with her, And We will see.

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