I loved it, I cried it. When the peaches grew in the bitter chill of her absence. When the peaches grew in her layered ashes. To feed the peaches which grew, absent away from the soul. Closer to the body where it came from. Her ashes, spread across the ground, to the sound of the peaches snare and twist from roots known to grow....on her ashes.
August 4th, 2012 at 07:59am