We don’t choose when our vices come to call.
I don’t make promises anymore.
The road to poetry is littered with demons. What will you do with them?
Disappointment is hard to swallow
Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash
Where opportunity lies
I’m not ashamed of being happy. Not anymore.
Every vagina-haver’s least favorite visitor.
My voice is unmistakable.
You were too perfect