A breath so epic and golden and extreme,
lips that whisper like olive branches and shooting stars,
eyes that hold constellations and dreams,
pinkies touching and the silver rope of love's string -
the kind of love I'm yearning for.

It's sunny outside for the first time in a few days and I'm watching it while I type on my computer. Wasting the day. I'm tired of typing. I'm tired of being tired. I just want to be free.

lovely is such a good word. maybe my favourite.

When I first came here I didn't know how to write and I think I still don't know what I'm doing.

I miss being a little girl,
ignorant and happy and loved.

~
I hold still,

let him finish stabbing me

                                                 — I count six,

let him believe me dead,

he moves on to Cecelia.

--

It does not go as well for her

as she continues to writhe and scream

and carry on,

not well at all
                                             
               ­                              — I count eight,

                                                                nine,

                                                                ten...
~