To long bus rides To coffee and muffins. To home. To tickets. To luggage. To strangers. To elbow wars. To awkward conversations. To smoke breaks. To curious children. To hope. To excitement. To books. To movies. To music. To sleep. To phone calls. To expectations. To changes. To familiar faces. To the neighborhood boys. To head knods. To hugs and kisses. To old bedrooms. To love.
Today, I stretched all the way to the door and thought I would leave. My arms held me tight but I was also reaching out. From the outside in, from the inside roaming in the clouds. When you look up an
I am standing still. The sky swoon Over my glaring soul. The moon in angst Over a lover who fell On my shoulders. Everything, pressing On me to move. Put the stars back In their place. Configure the c
i Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men – they come with keys, and sometimes, the men – they come with hammers.
