But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.

Fear is only a verb if you let it be. Don't you dare let go of my hand!

I am living today as someone I had not yet become yesterday and tonight I will borrow only pieces of who I am today to carry with me to tomorrow.

My mouth is a fire escape. The words coming out don’t care that they are naked. There is something burning in there.

I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

Last night I saw your ghost pedalling a bicycle with a basket towards a moon as full as my heavy head and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home.