The face so youthful,
Surrounded by ephemeral plastic,.
Long gone she is,
Sitting right in front of me.

Here clothes pressed and silken,
Surrounded by ephemeral plastic.
Wrinkled, torn, and frayed,
The fabric of reality.

A grace of angels,
Surrounded by ephemeral plastic.
The wings nubbed and bleeding,
As actions grind the bone.

A final goodbye,
Surrounded by ephemeral plastic.
A first hello,
To the opened package.

Taylor’s Writing Fund

This is just a small donation page to me, I do not make much money and this would help subsidize the time I take to make these poems. To anyone who donates, thank you so much and you have made an undeserving writer feel amazing.

$1.00

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