Writing

Dear love, 

The night you slept in my room the first time you were wearing one of your white cotton shirts.

I wish I was...

Beautifully sure of myself like Ae

Bouncy like M

Comfortable in my skin like L

Confident like N

Cool like T

There, on the shelf in my attic, hugged by the pictures and drawings my sister had created, these two shoes sit surrounded yet alone.

Rain, a thing often described as “sad” but think about it. 
Is rain really sad? It feeds crops, cleans the earth? Does that sound sad? 
Think of it as sad, but if you look, like really look. 

I am sitting here by the fairy lights strung 

Through the interior of West’s bus

Listening to him sleep

Writing down everything that I want you to know

Butterfly kiss, soft against my skin.

Promises.

Cyclone of feeling, enveloping not just me, but us.

Anticipation.

Honey-brown sunset eyes, on my green hazel.

Confessions.