i have never belonged, yet; somehow, i find it so easy to belong to you.
a poet like me never gets lonely; i have my words to caresss my lips and my thoughts to hug me tight; no i am never lonely, not with my turtleneck warming my chest and my heart beating as a constant drum of my extradorinary life. my company lays inside, my words my heart my... Continue Reading →
take me to Paris so i can butcher beautiful words and mimic foreign accents and drink incredibly expensive coffee and pretend i like tea at 3 in the afternoon. i will walk around while simultaneously falling in love with the romance language subliminally spoken all around. take me to Paris so that i can take... Continue Reading →
please brain, i beg of you, give me a break today.
i think too much, but apparently that's what gives a writer the upper hand. who said i wanted the pen in the first place? yet it's been handed to me. therefore, i will let my thoughts spill over in floods and watch the words fall like honey from my mouth and prick like the thorny... Continue Reading →
you say you're no good for me, let me be the judge of that. i have to bring my finger to your lips to stop you from uttering those words that bring saddness to your eyes and i want to kiss those thoughts far, far away. you're good for me, enough for me, i promise.