Writing

at dusk

sun setting on an april day in paris 

I messaged you 

as if I was sending letters

by carrier pigeon 

to an enemy fort 

hidden in the alps 

     I am having a dream about the senior class graduating.

     It is a beautiful day

     And I am watching from a hill

     Sobbing as the hats fly off

“Let me tell you a story” his mother said

“Okay! What’s it called?” Neo asked impatiently

“The Little Prince of Everything Everywhere All at Once”

“Momma I’ve heard that one already!”

I hate that I am only loved when you feel like it,

like I'm lovable but only when there is nothing better,

you miss me but you just miss having me as an option,

you wish I was there but only when nobody else is free. 

She has just showered, and her hair hangs limp down her back, washed of the shampoo she waited five minutes, forehead against the cool tile wall, to rinse off. The sky is ink and charcoal, but then, it has been for hours.

you make me feel like

it's okay

everything is fine

when i'm freaking out

when i'm nervous or scared or feel like i did horribly

you're always there.

you try to call even if you're too busy to