deepundergroundpoetry.com
Between the Lines
Hundreds of papers
withered, yellowed
wrinkled folded pieces
of my soul
hid in binders and
under matresses and
in pillows at
two A. M.
withered, yellowed
wrinkled folded pieces
of my soul
hid in binders and
under matresses and
in pillows at
two A. M.
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