from february

I don't think I ever posted this piece -- I just discovered it in my notes app and wanted to post for posterity. I have so much nostalgia and grief for last summer. I love to write about time, and the seasons, and I wish I could comfort my younger self and tell her that she will look back on it with a certain amount of disdain but also relief that it's over now. I want to tell her that it's over now.

Untitled

That night — when I first lay

with my face close to femininity —

was at the beginning of June. Yet

May haunts me, with its soft breeze and

unerring greenness. I was still gentle.

I never asked

for any of it

and you are so free

I went to Virginia

saw the sky

then realized how much healing

was left to do