You can find me in the forest, soaking up what little sun breaks through the branches. I left a part of me back in London, as well as the beach streets of Blackpool and Barcelona, sometimes, the tiniest sliver still lingers in the imaginations that I cannot repossess myself from. I am trapped, in ways…

He loves to hear me sing my songs in Spanish, the way that I make magic, drinking strawberry milkshake, while I grant his every aching wish. Musing on our future, I pretend to be asleep, when he wakes up in the morning, so he’ll tell me that I’m pretty, when he thinks nobody hears him.…

I need to write something. My pen is panicking, hovering over a wasteland, watching the minutes move on, pleading for my attention. I need to write something. It’s October, where I am, at least, the last time you kissed me, in your car, as I thought about the night before, and the morning, when I…