Here’s another moving poem by The Feathered Sleep. I read this one a few times now and it really hits me.
Our outstretched arms slowed and folded when you were born we didn’t know how to parent your screams or those red-eyed moments when longingly we looked to strangers or even, empty benches It wasn’t a lack of love maybe a lack of duty you see, we weren’t taught in our irregular and ragged growing […]
Aching to be held — thefeatheredsleep
19 Thursday May 2016