Today's poem is one for and about dysautonomia. May we all wear our turquoise spoons proudly this month.
But I won’t throw my head back And laugh at your jokes Or touch your hair Or wink Because tomorrow is no guarantee
On the day you asked me to pack my bags and fly to you, I let myself pack my hope. I left it in the baggage claim in the airport where you forgot to get me.
They say that seasons come and go. Maybe now that's true. Maybe this is just a season, There's hope I can pass through. They say that without rhyme or reason Life can take a turn. "Hold on to your fire, darling." There's nothing left to burn. I wanna sleep right now And wake up when... Continue Reading →
So, I built you a house in the back of my mind, tucked between my hopes and my nightmares. The walls were rotten, and black, and decay. Each lie became a nail fixing another stud at an unwelcome angle: sweet and broken.