Since the most honest hour is 2 am (and here you are) and here I am I might as well let you know I may have loved you long ago.

The memory of a feeling is caught like a pebble in my shoe I turn it over and again run a thumb across the surface trace cracks and...

A poem cannot exist if it’s not honest.

I know you’d be great, he is saying, because you try your best at everything you do. I scrunch up one side of my face. Do I, though? You...

is that the Wolf always knows where to find you. He observes your habits, learns your routines, then extrapolates your most recent...

light trips across skin earbuds in flexing fingers curve over screen synapses rage between neurons trudging well-worn paths There is no...

The Butterfly Conservatory: say it aloud as it flutters humidly about your head vibrant colours burst among greenery like s l o w l y u...