My Fallen Angel Your memory sticks to me like cobwebs. I scratch my face long after your touch is cold, clutching at old ghosts, slivers of gray mist. The last time I found you was when I upturned a black stone in the middle of the ocean. Then, I...
link: http://www.readitlive.com/2007/10/31/my-fallen-angel/
q Tue, 30 Oct 2007 23:13:20 GMT
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