Joy Ragged

October 29, 2016 § Leave a comment

When I see a silken
wilting flower, I don’t ask myself
if life’s worth living, or decide that being alive is great.
I only want to
tell the world about these perfect petals,
pink, and bruised to purple,
crumpling and

This exquisite impulse
transcends symmetry to dance drunk,
fling torn veils, and be.



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