Why do we keep picking over
the carcass of our love,
searching for meat left on the bones.
We were detritus long ago.
And yet, can't let go
of the wishbone.
Carcass
Why do we keep picking over
the carcass of our love,
searching for meat left on the bones.
We were detritus long ago.
And yet, can't let go
of the wishbone.
