I Still Feel It

A little differently. A little less. This is how I love you now— now that time has made a fool of us, of me, of you, you, who loved me as completely as I loved you— but you couldn’t find a way to undo unravel untangle the bramble of every choice you made before yourContinue reading “I Still Feel It”

The Botanist

I don’t think he knows he’s beautiful— which is lovely and strange and maybe even telling of a kind of innocence that comes from loving wild things better than human things, who sting and wither and grow thorns that can be hard to pull out if his center is as soft and fragile as hisContinue reading “The Botanist”