Martyr of another time
completed with stick and stone.
He couldn’t get the science
of cupcakes, running shoes and Italian dining.
He wanted so much not to be herself.
Being tall under a willow tree
Sifting through branches
He told me he loved me in 14 languages
that I couldn’t understand.
He told me he loved me in 14 languages
that I couldn’t understand.
Wood breaks, stars jump, the finger talks.
If blue were a feeling, this is it.
Daisies are dying in the fields.
Fish sink,
With the politicians quaffed words.