Issue |
 |
Sept |
|
a poem by Zach King-Smith (2 of 2)
The Roses
i got her
before
she left
died
right
where
she left
them
and
now
they
act
like
trumped
up headstones
marking the
past so
nobody
forgets
their
bones
once
laid
next to
somebody
at night
if they were
lucky enough
i don't have
the heart
to throw
them away
they're all
i've got.
before
she left
died
right
where
she left
them
and
now
they
act
like
trumped
up headstones
past so
nobody
forgets
their
bones
once
laid
next to
somebody
at night
if they were
lucky enough
the heart
to throw
them away
i've got.