inside us, a flower taken whole, a field built inside.
There are many ways to drown, only the most obvious wave their arms as they're going under.
I can weep pretty easily. I can get tears in my eyes from a beautiful work of art.
On a good day I write, all day.
Some part of me knew he would show up, that if I stood in one place long enough he would find me, like you're taught to do when you're lost. But they never taught us what to do if both of you are lost, and you both end up in the same place, waiting.
Who doesn't want to just disappear, at some point in the day, in a year, to just step off the map and float?