Winter has a cruel way
of splitting open our heart
and pouring salt on the wound to unfreeze the tender memories.

Desk Lamp

Stop it.
You.
Stop it.
You’re judging me.
You think you’re better than me.
You sit on your stand and give off this brilliance that you think I can’t live without.
You’re not better than me.
I don’t need you.
One of these days
I’m going to unplug you.






(for chase, but not about chase)