Like forgetting your headphones on a long journey,
Like the holes between knitwear,
Like water dripping between clenched fingers,
Seeping like white t-shirts and bloodied wounds,
This flower of red, blooms.
And Memory forgets herself.
Like forgetting your headphones on a long journey,
Like the holes between knitwear,
Like water dripping between clenched fingers,
Seeping like white t-shirts and bloodied wounds,
This flower of red, blooms.
And Memory forgets herself.