You're Meant To Have Whatever Your Heart

She Pushed The Gardener Away And Called For Them. In Her Sleep She Had Seen Love. It Was Poisoning. It Was Possessing. Devouring. Or It Was Seven Pairs Of Boots Climbing Up The Stairs To Find Her.

After His Kisses And Hugs It Feels Like Without Them My Body Will Fall Apart Into Pieces.

Sometimes She Wore Levi's With White-suede Fringe Sewn Down The Legs And A Feathered Indian Headdress, Sometimes Old Fifties' Taffeta Dresses Covered With Poetry Written In Glitter, Or Dresses Made Of Kids' Sheets Printed With Pink Piglets Or Disney Characters.

Pain Can Give You Sight Or Make You Blind.

Writing Is Literally Transformative. When We Read, We Are Changed. When We Write, We Are Changed. It's Neurological. To Me, This Is A Kind Of Magic.