February 2012
4 posts
I want to write but I can’t. Nothing is coming. I’m the best Creative Writing student. Hmhmhm.
'Break'
There are words I never wanted to hear you speak. But you know, they sounded much louder, and felt more like a movement, when they appeared on the computer screen instead of falling from your mouth. 2012.
Moving
‘To build a home’ is our song, and I did - build you a home. Your home is in my chest: my heart is your bedroom. I hope you never move out, but if you do, i’ll cut a house shape out of your clothes, fabric that smells like the colour gold and I’ll stitch it on to my front pocket, to cover the skin of my fluttering breast. I’ll decorate it with sparkles and velvet...
A history of girls.
1. 15 years old, first one. You were like opening a new page. Grabbing at each other in alleyways. Walking in winter until our hands were blue. Sneaking to your house when your parents weren’t there, all shyness. Biting hips. Scratches. Clothing parted, but intact. Sitting on a bus afterwards, laughing up at the fluorescent lights, our mouths spilling with blueberries that you stole from the...