you only showed me the glitter on your palms, darling, while what i wanted was to make love to the satellites in your soul
whites of my brain mosaicked with real and ( mostly ) imaginary conversations, memories, moments, boys, romances, florists, constellations, kisses, bedtime stories, fairytale elements
- to my nonexistent boyfriend and my future lovers
- to my parents and siblings and friends
- to all the male poets
- to the flower boys
- to the windows i never opened
- to the songs i always skipped
- to the dirt-covered piano i no longer play
- to the dried paint brushes in the back of my drawers
- to the humans i've had beautiful conversations and memories with and to the lovely humans i haven't met yet
and to those i never let close enough to me,
i am sorry. i promise i will meet you here.
to the people around me,
whatever you say or do might be used in this book.