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Submitted on
February 16, 2013
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231 bytes
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553
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36 (who?)
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39
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Under the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.
and it kills me.
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:iconkiki1690:
kiki1690 Jul 7, 2013  Student Writer
powerful!
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:iconshehrozeameen:
shehrozeameen Feb 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
... *lowers head* This was a heartfelt work.

After "55 degrees to minus 2 degrees" this has to be another one of your works which keeps that same theme intact.

While that was subtle, this one seems... much more open. And its worth reading every time.
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:iconbloodshotink:
:tighthug: Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoyed this, and you are right it was heartfelt and painful.
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:iconshehrozeameen:
shehrozeameen Feb 21, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
*accepts hug* hope you feel better.
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:iconiampoetry:
iamPoetry Feb 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
What a grand opening.
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:iconbloodshotink:
Thank you! Squee :D
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:iconzevais:
Zevais Feb 17, 2013  Hobbyist
above the peppered ground
is the flesh of my mother
uncomfortable upon spines
without reason, noone left to hate
Reply
:iconfoxofebony:
This is amazing :D
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