It’s hardly ever cold here
But when it is I’m reminded of home...

An orange glow reflects off the pavement from the...
The faint smell of fresh linen dryer sheets waft...

Sunlight pours through closed blinds
Casting a row of light beads on my pillow...

You’ll scratch at my surface until I’m...
You’ll throw me into your fire and tell me...

I can’t look at your pictures
They’re so bittersweet...

Nine years later and it feels the same,
The rhythm in my chest when I see your name...

Leave it to me to cave further into myself,
Only I did not think I could sink any deeper...

The historic charm of this old town calls to me
Buried in the hills just below Jefferson’s house...

It’s like you’re fire in my blood
Setting aflame the moth wings in my stomach...

Call me a good girl
So I may revel in my eager subservience...

What I turn myself into for others is unhealthy:
I’d give my last drop of blood for a pinprick...

I wonder how long before this bleeding stops.
My salty tears, no longer antiseptic...