after Kait Quinn The girl, the husk powdery to touch, frightened of fear and the secrets it keeps. The awe in my eyes when I see you, stitched in the elegant bow of willow trees. Love and beauty, the kingdom of frost melting into mid-july, the childhood of us. The begging, words thick with dust, … Continue reading What are you letting go of?

she meant sometimes the trees seem to whisper every name but yours, and the bluetits titter as the sun rises and sets each day as if mocking your inability to make anyone smile; or the lack of warmth you feel even within your own bones. She meant sometimes love is too short and too sudden; … Continue reading When Sara Bareilles sung ‘she is lonely most of the time’:

My mind, the corner I have kept for you has become a shrine I no longer wish to visit yet heed and pray before each night. My prayers are not gifts nor sweet nothings; they are not even prayers. They are misshapen thoughts, ounces of love without weight. There is nothing for me here anymore … Continue reading Ghosts in black coats

Moonlight shimmers across cobbled courts and Notre-Dame stands stoic in silence; omniscient and omnipotent, stained-glass eyes watching the Seine move beneath the twinkle of stars, the Eiffel Tower and the streets. Men with roses harangue tourists, but we are all seventeen and this is no time to love like strangers at midnight, our bellies full … Continue reading Paris, 2011.