"Last Resorts" a poem

Last resorts

In seasons we are, little but ourselves straining our strangers through mirrors, and emerging again, as neat shards of retractable dust. We poof, we pout, we paint. And still we end up looking the same, at the legends of same, in the blood of same, from the heartbreak of same. Sometimes the nights move into days before we have the[…]

Continue reading …