a letter to the Reader

this is not for you

this is for me

this was hardly ever about

touching souls or seeking vengeance

all along it was

a lifeline for a constellation

i know i am no poet

but i have too many words and nowhere to house them

but here

-Claire

the sun grazes you with her fingertips and longs to hold you closer for longer warmth she dances between your eyes a promiscuous...

lilies in a vase on the piano, stems intact. a chandelier, quivering like a splintered wind-chime. candles, lining spiraled stairs in a...

a cigarette cloud is nothing in the dark a nuisance in the day and art under the light i don’t know if it’s the insomnia or the ecstatic...

crossnthtbridge