dwelling
we got dressed quickly this morning
the draft coming in
shaking the long stems of the maranta in the corner
leaves curled up like hands in prayer
when I said I was starving
I meant there were not enough hours to fill
not enough kisses landed on my skin
truth is
I have too much space
truth is
my stomach is deep
I am still hungry
I asked you to feed me
to fill me up
when the winter wind started seeping in
feeling empty and achy
and I’ve left you
collection II — growth // decay