I love the way we grow taller then smaller and twist over growing flowers from decay renewing and refreshing every single day
when the world is upside down and we wake to darkness in the skies this is how we know we've arrived.
passing my heart in bright luminescence to beam onto yours
let the tug of gravity drip from your sleeves, and the sun dry us firm and crisp till we are imbued and stuck in the light
that faint hint of electricity buzzing through the air, the heavy static quiet
I am growing restless. Aching for the reverberation of heels clattering against cobblestone streets
Two years ago today, April 26, 2018, I made a cup of tea, poured it into a mason jar, and was getting ready to go to bed. As I was leaving the kitchen, the bottom of the mason jar fell out and boiling water cascaded onto my leg. In shock, I ripped off my jeans… Continue reading April 26