Your Word

You told me once how your regrets climbed your shoulders, trapped your feet in hardening cement. You spun apologies into lace, promised to never forget or take this for granted. Your words bloomed, breathed through me, flowered into beauty I thought could never be, but then you pushed delete, unfriended me in triplicate, and built […]

21 Questions I Never Thought to Ask

How do you hold your knife because I can’t remember and which side of the bed is your favorite? I like the right and I think you like the left. I hate wondering these wonders because I know knowing will never be. But how do you drink your coffee: iced or hot, black or creamy […]