Dear Heartache,
This is about my pink eye,
my small feet,
and the way I smell when I wake up
wrapped in my own arms.
This is about my pink eye,
my small feet,
and the way I smell when I wake up
wrapped in my own arms.
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Dear Hunger, Nothing left in here but peanut butter, bread, and pillows. Dear Passion, Sorry I forgot that you existed. I think I re-found you when reading Emily Dickinson.  Dear Patience, There is nothing left inside me but alarm clocks and horror movies. Dear Home-Ownership, I’ve got ziplocks full of rotten passion decaying on the shelves of my refrigerator. Dear Boundaries, I dream in plastic wrap and live in a bomb shelter. I finally found the “off” switch on my phone. Dear Adulthood, I’ve grown older than the tooth fairy. Unfortunately less fortunate in the bone and gold department.  |
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Tiffany Promisemy spirit animal is a goth teenager Archives
March 2016
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