i have outgrown the sweater my heart
was pinned to. i have cast it away to pout
with the rest of the rags on my closet floor. and
there it sits, stained with salty rivulets, tainting the
groaning, ancient wood.
i have no use for the shoes i was asked
to fill. i have cast them away to weigh down
the world's expectations. and there they stand,
worn soles, treading on the groaning, ancient wood.
i have put on my old suit. and it still fits just right.
I love all your work. when you publish a book can I infiltrate its pages with a few of my photos? because I would be honored to have my work so close to yours. I have never told you how much I love your writing. I do!
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