My feet are cold again and I’ve company in ghosts. The past is a tea best not seeped before bed. But here I am, cold feet and ghosts and thoughts better left in the past; tonight there’s little chance of dreams. What I want to say, what I mean to say is… we really needed […]
Talk to me in your morning voice, I’m mourning. Come soft and thick and muted; whisper in my ear. You see, we’re devastated with technology, with immediates, with projections. Just talk to me in shadow puppets before the wiring shorts, til we’re blinded in the shadows of […]
We are made up of the less quantifiable aspects of our character, the summation of our years and experience. And I still feel hopelessly ignorant—it’s the optimist in me that begs ignorance. Despite logic, reality, the past, this damn optimistic wellspring still bubbles in me and builds up grand illusions out of cardboard palaces. I […]
I am trying to get the picture in focus. I am trying. But your love was like cataracts over my eyes—too much exposure to harmful UV rays; call me girl Icarus, flying too close to the sun with foolish optimism. It happened the night your words left me shattered with disillusionment. I was looking at […]
She wore could be’s and what if’s like ornaments, the gilding of the cage; gifts given by men and lacking promise. The emptiness of such possibilities seeped around the edges of routine—they were in her solitary cup of tea in the morning, they hung in the words left blank on crossword puzzles, they sat in […]
My sentence structure is punctuated by you. I see the world in words stitched together by the years of me, thread through the eye of the needle, one bruised finger at a time. You ground me, and still my heart is a flight of birds, unabashedly fickle against fixedness, black wings and pure blue.