Posted on March 23, 2020
by Elan Mudrow
I will pick a blue flower. # The old one sits in a vase. Navy blue, blackened, dry crumbs, as if pressed inside an old book. A little life clings to its edges, a lingering glow. Mother nibbles at these fresh parts, the fresh…
Category: Flash FictionTags: Art, Blog, Life, Literature, Love, Myth, Nature, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Reading, Supernatural, Writing
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