Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Prompt: The feeling poem

smells like woodsmoke

tastes like jello without enough flavoring

feels like a bright sunny early morning summer room with diaphanous curtains billowing over a lush garden, both empty

feels like an alley cat who wants to be pet but doesn't know how

feels like that shopping cart on its side in a ditch by a country road glinting as you whiz by at 50 mph

loneliness

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