Oh how the skin can crave
the weight of a lover...

The flower child breathes in harmony
and exhales peace through paper dreams...

Your love as distant
as tiny stars, deserting...

Some nights, my heart is too much to bear, listen:
I want to talk about the loneliness...

I am no good at waiting
so I immerse myself...

I do hate your blank face
of meaningless white words...

It feels off-color,
this readiness to whittle your integrity...

My husband makes me feel pretty
on days when my mirror...

My retorts are bland,
like white rice...

I almost loved you,
I was thisclose...

Lately it feels like time
has kicked up her skirt...

I slurp the days of lemonade
with parched lips...