Sad Labels:
friends
There were toadstools in his cardigan. Little mushroom caps blotting away from his skin. There was life to tell what we could have. And touch to tease of things we never would.
With a confident nod it turned the price upside down. Spilling all the liquid. The fortunate lies. Tied to the sediment. Rusty pitchforks in search of a savior. As though truth were a swipe of lipstick across hungry lips. And these callous epiphanies were a gown waiting to be fitted. Overcome by the path from then to now.