lilies of the valley #poem #prose poem #short prose #poetry collection

I can see the woman who assumes things. Every night she picks the flowers that I throw on the road: withered lilies of the valley. She wants to be me. She wants my blood. She does not know I rearranged the bell-shaped whites so no one else can breathe their sweet scents. No one else…

lilies of the valley #poem #prose poem #short prose #poetry collection