Three years ago, I was convinced that the perfect time for me to be born was the late 1950s, in America, where my parents were probably friends with Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S Boroughs. I wanted to be a daughter of the Beats, and grow up and go to college in the 70s, … Continue reading I’m sorry but I am not into Golden Age Thinking.
I want to be your rock, The one you turn to when everything goes downhill. I want to take you in my arms And cradle you till sunrise. I want to be your rock, Your constant and your pride, Your northern star on a moonless night And guide you through the darkness you fear will … Continue reading Rock.
He walks away from her tearing apart the promises. The lobster from yesterday in the pits of her stomach churns, making her breathe deeply, till it calms down. The hot summer wind leaves her sweaty, the force of the crack in her heart unnoticed. A grin. A hug. A word at the right time. That's … Continue reading Bruises