in my pjs.
talks to me
in my sleep.
in my bones.
in my brain.
this little deaths poem “rings in my bones”
nice poem, desolate might be a good thing.
not the first time I read this one … amazingly though, it always feels like it!
This is great! It’s really clever. It made me laugh, because it seems so serious until you remember what the euphemism “la petit mort” really means.