Self-discovery
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Pinetrees will be the end of me.
OPENING ACT I. ACT I I float on words that don’t rhyme. On incoherent sentences. Fragmented meanings. I float past stories untold. Of how this place came to be. And why this life chose me. ACT II There is no sound. No voice and sense that can be made. From these lips. Sealed to protect Continue reading
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I hate this place: postpartum like you don’t see on social media.
I wake up to a familiar ceiling. The sheets are heavy but not heavy enough to bury this feeling. 5-4-3-2-1 – they say. In all the brochures. 5 things you see. 4 things you feel. 3 things you hear. 2 things you smell. 1 thing you taste. Isn’t that how we’re taught to regulate? Emotionally? Continue reading
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Father, mother, and daughter
I’m sitting here and writing this with one ear lent to my playlist and the other at the mercy of the slightest sound of your breath. My eyes constantly darting from this journal to your bassinet. My arms ready to drop any and everything if a chirp from you orders their embrace. Continue reading
Boundless Entries 