Why I Write

Because there are midnights, and the moon, and little girls in tutus spinning at ballet class. Because there are blue eyes, and calloused hands, and lopsided grins that never straighten, and smog-ridden cities, and bridges where jumpers swim. Because there are benches under apple trees, high-heeled boots clicking down hallways, friendship bracelets and bike ridesContinue reading “Why I Write”

the five stages of grieving my first love lost

Denial Thrust out of our warm, sticky, inviolable womb I am infant abandoned, shivering in permanent Siberia. Where are you? This is the art of waiting– letting minute hands mother my memories. Entrusting myself in the safety of Time’s breath– I still believe, with a saint’s blind faith, her hours will carry you home. IContinue reading “the five stages of grieving my first love lost”