entangled, entwined you say I’m always on your mind roots strangled amid rotting soil suppress, distress, uncoil, unkind
restlessness is the season we try to circumvent: gin dry, feeling sly, drags of smoke, battle cries it’s nice, for a while, ‘til moonlight too soon is spent then it’s heavy hearts we carry toward sunrise’s grand lament
Emily Ritchie 2019













