July 21, 2014 § 5 Comments
your only purpose on earth—the only fame you would receive—
was to be my muse, inspiring me to mania?
May 18, 2014 § 9 Comments
May 12, 2014 § 3 Comments
He was always a player—
So I played him in my head,
rearranged the words he said,
told myself he would mend
his heart for me.
But boys who play don’t like to grow,
he was Peter Pan without the gypsy soul,
a sailor without a wave to row.