L.R. is a writer who is still trying to figure everything out, including how to write a third-person bio.
Her eyelashes
Her eyelashes were decorated identical to
graveyard fences, again
It made me wonder, if she used a special glue,
if she could open her eyes after shutting them for a blink, if
she knew her eyelashes protruded my imagination, relentlessly
forgetting to remember.
As her hair came loose, lips lost color, cheeks melt,
still graveyard fences stood. Time had come to part,
yes this is world where time had a linear tongue. Dodging
goodbye, I said three times,
her eyes watering, I saw
fireflies glistering under rows of fences. I realize, I
remember that graveyard from another life.