She whispers secrets in my ears, about her lovers and her sadness
When I need to, I hide in the depths of blankets and in deep thoughts of living in a forest with you in a small wood house.
“They’d cancel their Saturday nights, make every hour 8 a.m. Sunday, when together is unthinking.”
“in Europe I’m too African /
in Africa I’m too European /
and in Canada I’m too French / I’m done.”
“I walked in still holding the bouquet of flowers and worried the vet tech would think I’d got them for the cat.”
We did not talk. You were too high and I was enamoured with the symphony of sounds coming from rushing waters beating against soft rock on the bottom of the riverbed.
I’ve known too many people who’ve left.
word by Sean M. Hogan colour by Stephanie Rivet I had just turned twenty-three when…
My apartment has the music of love in it. There is a row on my…
I wasn’t sure what direction things were taking. I was having trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating…