May there never come a time I see water without a laugh escaping my lips as my eyes fill with shades of blue blending into green. May I always hold my body with pride for its soft, scarred, tenderness and glorious grace. May I find breaths to laugh at myself when moments of beauty become… Continue reading May
The only time I've dreamed of flying I was laying next to you wrapped in white sheets. Originally written April 12 2018, in a room with sparkling lights.
The first time I cleaned a freshly dead body, I called you. I was submerged in a hot bath hours after my shift ended, Prosecco from the bottle to my lips, and I told you about the eyelids that crept open and disrupted my feeble attempts at sleep. I told you about the color of… Continue reading Simply
Don't test a Scorpio with your ambiguity. Originally written August 2017, sketched April 2018 in a tap room.
Today I found some six-year-old writing hidden beneath an innocuous document title that spoke truths I’d yet to realize, but that’s not really the point. That’s not the place in my heart that’s aching, although it does ache when I think of her name. The point is in the truth; in speaking it, in all… Continue reading Today
spin beads to lake tide hail mary, full of grace lips press words to fragments of moonlight scattered through waves spun by wind our father, who art in heaven my tracks car tracks their tracks into water hail mary, full of grace pebbles press to flesh dimpling ripples she forgot to know our father, who… Continue reading Blasphemer
Cello strings and bare feet on a dirty dance floor Hanging up scotch for water, neat in an empty tap room. Originally written February 21 2018, in a crowded tap room.