Peeking through the window, like a nervous, naughty infant, with a disappointing school report, I saw you. I watched you. I waited, not by choice, but by command of my confidence (or lack thereof) that insisted on spending several minutes, wondering why someone so delightful, decided to take me out for dinner. I watched you,…

Saffron on my skin, soft and sentimental, sensitive to the time, sending signals with my actions, seeking answers on your intentions. Seven PM seems about right, so why am I nervous? Surely soon meant soon? Seven wasn’t a sure thing, sure. Neither was today, so, maybe I’m building myself up, so high, just to fall,…

Thatcher’s dead, but I’m still not satisfied. I join her in the dirt, with broken promises and stars in my eyes, my dreams don’t cast shadows, and I live in a neighbourhood where good people don’t go. He joins me, and I smoke all his cigarettes, while we listen to The Smiths. He asks me…