i am. i am. i am.

We submit to what we admire, but we love what submits to us.

Lauren Renee Wallen



I'm doing this friends only, apparently.

so you made me come then you sent me away, like a messenger bird. so I circled the earth, blown away in the wind but I always returned with some new little song. some sad story to tell of a brief love affair with a girl I compared to you and she failed.

"Where will you be later?"
"I will be here waiting."

She pointed, poised in her wrinkled slip, I didn't think people wore them anymore thus why she intrigues me. Inviting me in such a way that made me feel connected, but young. I felt myself compelled to follow her everywhere. I’m afraid I might miss something. She already knew everything, and I felt most comfortable in not having to say words to her that would have frightened me if I spoke them too loudly at her.



I keep speaking of daggers, but have used none.

This then is my story. I have reread it. It has bits of marrow sticking to it, and blood, and beautiful bright green flies.

did i even begin to say how i caught her? in my butterfly net.