little island

and then we go here.
i steal a wooden boat.
i pack it with cakes,
you pack it with milkshake.
you sail us to the middle of the sea,
i giggle a lot,
... you are a clumsy sailor!
i wear a white and blue bikini with bows,
you wear yellow shorts with little green parrots.
it's sunny,
and hot,
and pretty.
we stop somewhere.
you take your nets to fish,
i read poems out loud from my favorite book.
i'm happy.
and you tell me you are too.

transatlanticism

today at dawn,
before landing,
i closed my eyes and it felt as if i had no gravity.

right over the atlantic.

i had nothing pulling me to the ground.

for the first time in many months i felt weightless.

and then, when everything goes wrong, you move house or you cut your hair, right?

sugar anchors

yesterday i made a paper boat.

i wrote his name on it.

just before spring arrives,
i'm going to put it in my pocket,
i'm going to battersea park lake,

and i'm going to let him go.

a mixtape that makes me cry.

twinkle twinkle, little heart

"your heart doesn't fill in with blood, it's made of sugar"
and her words keep my sugar heart going, as i long for the spring,
and try to come out intact again of the most meaningless,
oh-this-could-have-been-love story.

and one day he told me that if i left, he would never find anybody else. but i always knew he would. he was never wrong about love, it was just me he was wrong about.

hello goldfish

in the summer i was in love in him,
in the winter i told him i'm not.
so i forgot love,
put my bathing suit on,
and went swimming every morning in the pond.

there were no fishes or swans.