Old Lace And Notebook Pages

Lacey curtains of poetry and rhyme, where all the holes in the story somehow make it more beautiful.

Demurely covering the heart of the matter, while exposing tantalizing facts that only inflame the imagination.

Floral patterns in the memory of daisy chains, spiraling tendrils of adjective and flexible lines of facsimile that creep along the border.

Draping this assemblage of promiscuous prose around my bare shoulders on a winter’s eve, dispelling the draft of loneliness.

 

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