All my life I’ve read about the girl In the corner of a coffee shop, Sipping tea that wouldnt stay warm enough throughout the duration of her book. Ive read about the boy who watches her from a distance,

do they still fall in love? or has that gone out of fashion? like the 60’s style and radio and conversations that meant something, before social media killed us. i guess, loving has become too cheap today.

nobody taught me how to forgive how to stop spending my last pennies on cigarettes perfume or vintage designer home wear i still keep a tooth for an eye inside my closet where i also tuck my deepest fears

No matter how trivial or small, There was always that urge to correct, to edit, to enhance? Their intentions weren’t bad or evil, you know. They just thought that if I gave up this piece or that one I’d

Holocaust reminders of land seized and rights stripped by a people claiming superiority with plans of annihilation Caged and counted as bodies mounted The Torah burned but faith lived on Liberation came

When people describe me, they say, “she loves too much, too deeply, beware of her” They say it like it’s an insult, like a disclaimer for every man who enters my life. They say it like it’s wrong to love

I dreamt about you. And it's hard to tell if it was punishment or encouragement. The smell of your skin, the way my cheek felt against your chest, the grumbling vibration your voice made that soothed me

She buys her time, thanks to previous ambition. She pays for her own meal. In the clothes that SHE bought. This is her feminine liberation. Endless noise surrounds her. Everyone is with someone. People

The invisible buzz of electricity between two arms, A big red balloon tied to the wrists of a lost woman, Questions lied up in infinite lines, Oh, I’m sorry, I ran out of answers. Singers have lost all