top of page
B

Seasons change

Seasons change and I fumble my way after them.

Never on beat, never on time, always a second off pace.


I hesitate, stumble, run to catch up. Always at the nick of time, my timing is timed just right. Just enough.


Content with just enough.


Recent Posts

See All

soft launch

Soft launch but not a slow start. Sure hands and a steady heart. I say your name in my head Make a space in your bed. You open the door...

Sunsets and lovers.

Sunrises and covers. Sunsets and lovers. I wash the sheets to wash your smell out. I wish the day would erase more than just the night.

who is wounded?

We are nothing. Existence is grey. Words cover my mouth But you do not leave it. If I pluck a blade of glass who is wounded?

Comments


bottom of page