POETRY: WHERE WE CROSS SWORDS NO LONGER BY PAUL TRISTRAM


I’d climb her ribcage,

if she’d only let me.

From the bottom

to the top.

In and out

of nostalgia

to a deeper

understanding.

Where we

cross swords no longer.


Written by Paul Tristram


Barstool


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Published on August 27, 2015 00:00
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