Title:
<p>We peeked through the keyhole, the spy hole, the transparent window,</p><p>a light breeze coming from the attic downstairs, in the bedroom</p><p>closed eyes behind an auburn hair curtain, caressing her fingers,</p><p>reflections of mattress stories on the black mirror,</p><p>thousand little deaths transformed.</p> <p> </p>
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 10 and 8:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.