COYOTE BLOOD
poetry, art, mistakes, music, love, visions and everything...
Poem
I press my chest
and know I'll be working
until the day I die.
I caress the breast
of the woman
next to me
and realize she
won't be here forever.
I type this poem
in the notes
on my phone
and admit
it doesn't matter.
I breathe
and see
the end of all.
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