linneanirell:Please linger at the corners of my life. I beg you, leave traces. Sweeping th
linneanirell:Please linger at the corners of my life. I beg you, leave traces. Sweeping through the rooms, I wish to find a strand of you. I want to trace you; on my skin, underneath the tapestry, feel your mark, where I end, I begin.There is no one else in this house, yet your presence exists in every crevice.Take your time with it, I could give you all of it, every part of it. The rotten wooden floors, the blossoming Arbutus, climbing through the broken window, the white linen sheets, the afternoon sun, the clovenlip under my tongue I left forget-me-nots in your shoe, did you notice?I ripped them up in my garden, roots and allevery time you leave, linger, I beg you. In the empty air, underneath my sheets, by the doorstep, between my fingers. I wish to breath in- November twenty-six, Linger by Linnéa Nirell.I wrote this one yesterday. Haven’t written much lately. It feels good to do it again. -- source link
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