Soul Mates

FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailby feather

The Four Years Of
Three Hundred And
Sixty Five Times Four.

One Thousand Four Hundred
And Some Thing Days
I Can’t Count.

Sense The Last Time,
Always A Last Time
That We Shared This
Prison Cell.

You Write To Me Now
Letters To Explain
Our Time Together.

I Leave Them Unopened
Box Them Away
And Now Await My Next
Cellmate.