Read me that slow story
written in scars across your skin
that you hide behind silk and denim curtains
The single line about the
tin of beans,
or the deep paragraphs behind your eyes
about that time you ate too much of the truth
and it just kept pouring
out of your mouth
until everybody left you
to play pretend

from Ghost and Onionskins

My apologies for the absence…

I’ve been traveling in Australia! I’m back now though and will be posting again actively.