From the Drabble’s feed. A beautiful poem that I wanted to share with everyone.
By Johnlmalone The bus shelter at the end of our street grinds its teeth at night. Sometimes I sit with it, hold its hand, listen to its tale of drunks and suicides, of lycanthropes baying at the full moon, of lost Lotharios weeping in their fists I talk to it too about my problems Of […]
via Lopsided Moon —