| sour_green_apples | ||
| mourninglight |
the newborn wrapped in old cotton rags with icy sour green apple eyes, and pale pale skin. she sighed, a baby sigh, a soft sigh and waited for the mother who could only stomach those sour green apples through the entire 9 months of her load, her ordeal, her gift. the fruit of her eyes, the mother who would never come |
040827 |