Photo by Steve Johnson on UnsplashI cannot tell which of the wounds I acquired hurts the most. I gather all of them in a large wicker basket. Every summer morning I sort them out. I re-live each of them. I see how the Lie walks hand in hand with the Betrayal, and how the Betrayal indulges herself in…
Of Wounds By Gabriela Marie Milton #poem #poetic prose #short prose — Short Prose
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