Posted in Photo

QPD – Leftover

Leftover beauty

Milk in my hands

Though I squeeze every crevice of skin together

It seeks out the cracks

Slivers of space where thought once existed

It bleeds over my knuckles

Counting the moments

One by one

Lucious seconds dripping to the floor

Opaque shape shifting shadows

Of a minute hand stuck

Though the clock ticks on

Author:

Letters from inside my head

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