poetry

(le petit pot fleur de sel) I think in a blink and I'm transported flying and folding through

(the paradox) there was no stench as sweet as your happy panting breath no specks of dirt as decorative as

(the part that made me sad) one day I cracked it open, this book I carried everywhere with me, to

(secret for safekeeping) if her secret is not-so-secret is it still a secret? when does their nonchalance become negligence? when

(destination: gratification) I overheard in passing that we’re a ridiculous generation with insatiable appetites for instant gratification yet we’

(sad bath) sometimes i just want to take a sad bath in a windowless room no lights, no flickering candles

(sugar scrub) I exfoliated again today sloughed off a layer of dead s k i n and I am learning

(bookmark) after you died I bought a notebook and began to write your story our story the beginning when we

(guidance) when I die there better be some version of Afterlife Google Maps because I'm terrible with directions

(ownership) the question written on the form had me gutted: “do you own any pets?” an unintentional stab of the