They say this soil is too tough for sweetness,
built on old bone, deep coal, and winter frost,
but they don’t know what grows beneath the brick.
I keep you tucked right where the marrow sits,
a buried wealth, like stringy liquorice in the dark.
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Author:
pontefract (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2026 06:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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