what I was told was not
If I were told a birthright in my early years,
it could have been a quiet ease of belonging,
this sense that a place might open
simply because I stepped near.
If that promise were mine, I would carry it still—
but I learned it was not, and I would walk differently.
Poetry by anonface
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Written on 2026-07-03 at 00:59
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Ingvar Loco Nordin |
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jim |
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by anonfaceLatest textstapping against the worldstamped in clay July poetry on queue open every door |
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