I've heard whispers of Paris lately,
the city of love and some place foreign to me...

His palm became my dictionary
emended by pastel lines...

Our home is decadent in
peeling plaster...

I spent
the twenty fifth day...

I've been thinking lately,
about how we've forgotten all the...

As a child I was fascinated by your back,
I saw your freckles as docks and my crayons...

The letter I probably should have written...
Our love was a string of haiku; and I...

October was;
the death of fireflies...

Before now,
there was a vacancy in my...

We'd meet with shells and a camera,
toes tap dancing over bluebottle jellyfish and...

It was something
about that December day...

My mind is a suitcase and it's kept
the gunpowder close to my lipstick and...