the scalloped
moon, crisp white,
sitting on
a black tarred
roof,
a bed of starry
nails shining
through, desrves
a long hard
stare, no
less mysterious
than when
it's full.
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real
experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
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