To The Girl in The Mirror

It is like being skinned, like being slowly unguarded and left in a formidable puddle of my own dearth. I sit on a couch, a sofa, a loveseat, anything to cushion the bone I am about to be. “Let’s undress this sweetheart, we are only here to celebrate nudity.” But, Read more

Shoeboxes in the Heart

There are alcoves in our hearts Hollowed and laying vacant, ours to fill Like boxes which new shoes once came in, Now housing old photographs and mementos Stowed far under the bed, wrapped in shadows. Those shoeboxes, dusty-lidded and hushed, just sit Waiting. So are the heart-spaces, unobtrusively holding our Read more