“The sadness isn’t their sadness. The sadness is the way they will never unpack the rucksack of happiness again. They’ll never surface as divers rising through leagues of joy, through sun willowing through the bottom half of waves. They’ll never… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“I love incorrectly There is a solemnity in hands, the way a palm will curve in accordance to a contour of skin, the way… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“Oblivion and significance/brush our bones, leave us weeping for strangers.” — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“The sadness isn’t their sadness. The sadness is the way they will never unpack the rucksack of happiness again. They’ll never surface as divers… — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
“There are days when I wake/ and find my face is a hole/ and I have nowhere to hang my mask.” — Carl Adamshick Copy Share Image
