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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.


author's note

to the people around me,
whatever you say or do might be used in this book.


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