i still remember what it feels like
to sit by the window
tattooed by constellations
waiting for the heavens to open, to drop an angel out by the back of his shirt
"is he coming?" she asks.
cottonwhite nightgown
polar bear paintings on the wall, leaf-shaped nightlight plugged in
toying with the possibility of first broken hopes
i still believe in you, peter pan
"no," i respond, after a lifetime of waiting.