I. As often as I am delighted, I am frightened and alone. Closets, when I was young self-hiding, no lights for hours taking myself to some other place where my city was silent and I felt cotton, not concrete. shame I’ve already forced myself out of the safe place for my uniforms. I’ve had more inside than I’ve offered to let go is this my imitation of fair company? or is there really a silence I long to sleep in? years ago, I heard the woman I love scream. she shook the room, roaring but I haven’t heard it since.
Of course there is a light. this pulls the innocent from starvation and madness from me.
I bought in to what smelled like roses. This is to be expected.