Tracing my own thigh under my fingerprints I struggle to pretend it’s your hand, exploring the soft curve over muscle as if you could feel it uniquely. smiles, words heard, words lost, missed follow the digital map of fantasy blip blip blip of lost connections yet full color bravery when we faux-feel in the overt… Continue reading ALL AT ONCE
Living your life with great passion seems to be less appealing these days. You describe how passionate your longing for your lover is, and someone will say, “get over it”. The norm these days is just to buck up and be hip, instead of live the depths of your soul. It's as if your feelings… Continue reading Where Have All the Poets Gone?