Monthly Archive: March, 2017

untitled, pt. 2

your mother did not spend nine months – growing, forming, molding – your heart for you to let some boy break it in seconds. she did not hold your hand as you crossed… Continue reading

tell me ||

I don’t wish for small talk; not with you. I don’t want to know the weather where you are or if the deli down the street started selling your favorite New York style… Continue reading


                                                                 … Continue reading