It will only make our insides burn until we are nothing but ash. Mar 22, 2012

An electronic whine in a field of budding apple trees,
muffled by your cheeks and tears
(not of emotion but of reflex).

There is a fullness in this afternoon,
and a great sense of loss amid the fragrant preflowers.

The scar runs lengthwise for half a mile,
splintered greenwood and chunks of fruit.

Linked from: circles, Where does the song go when the needle is lifted?

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