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71. thank you for the magic
when i was little i wanted to make magic, to pull the rabbit out of the hat and make things disappear before your very eyes. i got little magic kits for bithdays and watched magic shows on tv. i was an...
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i live thence
no one replies. and in this deadly silence, i sit alone, my suitors lost in time. the pain’s misplaced. never mine. and i can fall all i want cos nobody would hear the noise | socially...
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74. and i am fear, i am love.
notes reverbrate in my head, songs drown in their own chords. words on words, words on words. and i am fear, i am love. i’ve been found out. ‘i am yours now so now i don’t ever have to leave i’ve been...
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77. sometimes i just need to know that you won’t die
the week is nearly over. again. and it feels like rain on skin in the heat of summer, raising goosebumps in spite of its warmth. i never want anything to end. not even nightmares. i drag them out...
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78. i have decided that i will be cold tonight
do you reckon we could make snow angels without snow? we could scrape ourselves against the ground, delirium of cold seeping through our pores. then, maybe then, our bodies would scrape away the frost...
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84. that will be all
it’s time for answers. or questions. whichever. a fellow writer inspired me to think about a few. and they started the clock tick-tocking inside my mind: what did a girl like me want anyhow? what is...
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85. cherry soda loves
there was a line in streetcar named desire that i remember. it said it’s touching to notice them making their first discovery of love! As if nobody had ever known it before. it resonates, for now the...
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the world off your shirt
i won’t wait on you, but not because i don’t want to: maybe i would have done on any other day— that’s not to say that i don’t hate standing at the train station waving at a departing train. it’s not...
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90. we lay on the deck and count the stars
morning 8:30 a.m. he did not recieve the text. good. so we chat. friends, not lovers, that we are: i question him of things and he shares his good news with me. at midnight. not that i didn’t ask him...
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91. cultivating life
a vibrant note of a harpsichord flies in: a coloured bird, a richly feathered parrot. i feel alive; a spark travelling down a strip of litmus paper, exhuberantly coloured, incadescently moving. such...
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