Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash
Do I climb, Chiron?
to heal my old, open wounds
the Mount calls often
About the Creator
K. Kocheryan
I write, delete, write, and on most days, delete again.
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She falls and pours
For however long it lasts and speaks—changing, slowing, and growing. Whispering with scent. It encloses the small part of the reality owned and, in a way, transforms or transports on solid foundation, stilling or shaking depending on what it’s made of.
By K. Kocheryan2 years ago in Poets
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