You can’t stop his sentences with a dot, period.

Photo by Quest Antonio

Easy Tears
Easy tears down a weary cheek, a trembling lip like a silent earthquake that erupted from the heart. A warrior sized heart, a peaceful epicenter. 
Which is only just the vessel of the soul
and everyone silly says you can’t see the soul.

These stories
These words stamped down like a hammer into the concrete, rocks polished and 
chiseled smooth like glass, a fine piece of life that resides and the dust of life that leaves a residue and still sits in the air waiting to settle and be swept away. I watched tears for a loss, yearning youths misty eyes. Another mans tears as I hold the hand. Burst, because we exist, because we exit too soon, because we cannot backpack backwards and ripen a rotting fruit to somehow flip a nickel to the time keeper to press pause and to skip back to a time to correct an emotion to better explain a love, the form of a former self.
The form of my former self
– Victor Ross II

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