I've heard whispers of Paris lately,
the city of love and some place foreign to me...

His palm became my dictionary
emended by pastel lines...

I spent
the twenty fifth day...

Our home is decadent in
peeling plaster...

I've been thinking lately,
about how we've forgotten all the...

As a child I was fascinated by your back,
I saw your freckles as docks and my crayons...

We'd meet with shells and a camera,
toes tap dancing over bluebottle jellyfish and...

The letter I probably should have written...
Our love was a string of haiku; and I...

Before now,
there was a vacancy in my...

October was;
the death of fireflies...

My mind is a suitcase and it's kept
the gunpowder close to my lipstick and...

It was something
about that December day...