our regrets
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Our regrets flow relentlessly,
like cracking spattered scalding lava,
cooled by woman's salty tears,
fanned by broken dreams and aspirations,
spackled with secret whispered conversations
delivered with anxious red pajama reputation
to congeal, frigidly
into to hallowed mountains of separation
turning miles into millennial monumental minefields of remorse.
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