I dreamt you flowing under exotic women, draping silk and spice into your tassels of hair.
Human Horror
Tag: poem
The Boy and The Alcoholic
On my most private of places, I wear your brief despondent intervals of sobriety.
Reverie
The lovers nestled in their cold cavernous caves sicken at the coming sun.
The Girl Who Walks Behind(The Girl From Ipanema)
She existed in the creases of his hands; like tiny shards of glass She filled the space.
Song of Grief
This business of grief
Doe
Doe, do something only I could understand, walk in the middle of the road with your eyes closed.
Don’t Get Lost
I turn to respond only to be greeted by the soft caressing scent of a pine fire
Aigner Loren Wilson Writer & Editor 