Wreckage.
In the bloody mired mirror of that day lay a cell phone in a bath of blood…
It never came back on.
In the bloody mired mirror of that day lay a cell phone in a bath of blood…
It never came back on.
This entry was posted on August 17, 2023 at 10:14 PM and is filed under Jencerpts.. with tags Death, Love, Poetry, Rawness, Truth. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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