poetry by j matthew waters

dead on a sunday morning

yes I get the point
where I don’t exist anymore
and time moves on
whatever that means

there are so many moons
yet to discover
hopping & skipping
from one to the next
as if I’m a kid again

living & breathing
outside of the fish bowl
one-way ticket
taking me to places

october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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2 thoughts on “dead on a sunday morning

  1. medisonhutchinson on said:

    Taking me places unimaginable 💙✨️

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