childhood
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Beneath the Sycamore
With pens dipped In the ruby inkwells Of our hearts We wrote each other Scarlet promises On scraps of parchment (Such silly children) Staring at each other We placed them On our tongues And swallowed Those bittersweet vows Beneath The sycamore tree Still standing Though our love Had long withered On the wings Of spring Continue reading
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Puberty
We watched the shadowsStretch and entangle themselvesFolding into each other over the beige wallsLike secret loversLured by the pearl-tongued murmursOf the moonWhile the wind danced and whistled coollyBy the window And we were still by each other —Silent and supine–Our chests in tandemWith echoes of our soft breathPulling in anxietyRattling our rib cagesFor sleep couldn’t Continue reading
Nomad Writer 