February 14, 2013A Poem by Molly CaraEvery morning, the sky tries on a hundred different colors before it finds its blue. The trouble with me is, nothing fits. Is there nothing to do but sit with sadness like citrus and relive my mistakes in my dreams? © 2013 Molly Cara |
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Added on February 16, 2013 Last Updated on February 16, 2013 |