I find myself
at lost for words
when she gets lost
in her world.
I lost track of the number of handkerchiefs I’ve lost these past two years, three months, and twenty eight days. You used to tell me I had a knack for losing the most mundane things, and I would just smile and rub my sweaty hands against my denim jeans before I hold yours just tight enough to let you know that you . . . I did not want to lose you—but still loose enough just so you could understand that I did not intend to keep you for my ‘own’— Continue reading “Supergirl”
If I were Peter Pan, your name would be the happy thought that made me fly. It, or the way you paced the floor like the soles of your two-sizes-too-big leather ankle boots were slaves to gravity. It, or the creases on your face when your eyebrows got all scrunched up the first time you caught me staring. It, or the way your huge eye glasses rested on your pronounced cheekbones. Continue reading “Happy Thoughts”