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”



I am heart, soul, bones, flesh, and skin.
Shaped by the Potter’s bare hands—I’ve got more curves than edges;
Fearfully and wonderfully made with holes to fit you in—
I was crafted with you in mind like necessity;
You see, he equipped you with a forged sword that still needs heat treating,
You poor, poor, flawed being—

Continue reading “Yours”