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.
It will only make our insides burn until we are nothing but ash.
- Where does the song go when the needle is lifted?
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