...became a woman who learned her own skin and dug into her soul and found it full.
Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.
I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.
The windows, the starving windows that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
I suffer for birds and fireflies but not frogs, she said, and threw him across the room. Kaboom! Like a genie out of a samovar, a handsome prince arose in the corner of the bedroom.
When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.