I change the destination, but you always find me in the same place. I change my mind, but it still belongs to you. You create your own life, but you let me have a little space. You create a kaleidoscope of butterflies, but you leave them inside of me when you go.

When I am happy, I think about loss. It never leaves me, even when I ask politely, because I don’t know how to function, without fucking things up for myself. I’m the kind of girl who wants things too much, and I told him that, right from the start (well, the second time we met),…

Weak under warm blankets, enjoying the magic of my fingers, softly stroking your hair, lips pressed against your volcanic temple, as I worship my wounded warrior. I hold you close, hearts in chaotic sync, I breathe in time with your sleeping symphony, Mary Seacole of the twenty first century, silently speaking your name, as if…