Funny how our hearts / were designed / to love / so fiercely. / but break / ever so gently.

I want to / stay curled and cosied / and chocolated....forever / in my mother’s arms.

My mother is pure radiance. She is the sun I can touch and kiss, and hold without getting burnt.

we always knew that good times came with termination contracts even if we weren't quite ready to sign it.

Our feet are grape-squashed in memories, our skins are still flushed from the touch of summer's lips.

I wouldn't mind if life left me... wingless burnt to cinders ripped by storms scattered...like weeds celestially wounded without cherry blossoms to perish with but I would cry with head held in my hands if it left me...unfulfilled.

The splendid thing about falling apart silently...is that you can start over as many times as you like.

Your hand touching mine. This is how galaxies collide.

As the sky prepares to settle its tired, aching feet into the night’s velvet slippers I settle, into my armchair, soaking the teabag, of my thoughts, into warm liquidy stars.

the intensity / in your eyes / burns my pen / as i write.