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Don't Come Crying to Me by Morgan Moore

I heard you’d died and stood up so I could squeeze in enough air to sob. My left hand on the red velvet couch and my right hand splayed out on the glass coffee table tethered me to the stable world as the rest of my body cried itself out.




Morgan Moore bounced around quite a bit prior to settling down to write in San Francisco. Some of his prior occupations include; snowboard instructor, US Army soldier, and cab driver. He finds the relative safety of writing quite gratifying.