Seventeen and the room have amulets not as we curate to then have redress of leaving you missing; they played till dusk, mooring the hour’s attentively, basking wheels spun out with intently. Couldn’t repair the past i said, making do with those abrupt excuses, shamming my way through the passaged timeless guilt. Your daughter or the grander generation, pills my curvatures of memoir, known more famous making life, in between the deep rooted lies. You keep the right time, when i felt his sunsets; then and i could, not-bequest an fence your save, two emblematic districts.

We coursed the brothers cinnamon, shale and awoke to the lasting amber, his poetry, and braids forget the knots, they recourse peaches, they were plentifully loading to the future. My invites breached your attendance, made in thoughts to visit my flora, they set the loaded fare in distant return. The brother i could have fashioned out of an hour, missing the seconds, they place with peaches, distances travelled to have in their retun to calculate.

Dystopia was all i could do, wrote to songs that placed in writing to those words i reread my sister, my best memoires were before i lost-to-nurture: Seventeen a renaissance pocket, to hip to refill he had known all i have shown. Beta blocks, they hesitate to not bother as a sister, a sister places you at abode, those with arterials window need not know, you shovel his gravel, reset his cause, martyr those you defend to as your brother.

2022 © Adam Blewett