~ Heart: porous honeycomb whose multitudes of caverns I mistook for emptiness. Heart-- whose beat I likened to the pulsate of a...

~ the crescendo of my silence/metempsychosis of moth to butterfly/unopened bandaid boxes/the sobriety of dawn/barefoot in the flower...

~ Spinal column a stairwell of books, rungs of untouched vertebrae avoided by the bibliophile herself [myself]. Brain is wired...

~ The other day, I unblocked you from Instagram. Not because I miss you. Not because I am inviting you back into my life after a year and...

~ Every step I take is catatonic, an acute contrast to the way my thoughts bolt about the convoluted labyrinth of my psyche. I couldn't...