I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

No, I don't think poems will save us. And yet, and yet

It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.

This is how I disappear in pieces.This is how I leave while not moving from my seat.This is how I dance away.This is how I'm gone before you wake.