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.

the winter is love because: you listen to your favourite music, endlessly, until you are over another winter love story

the winter is love because: you remember benjamin, forever (or this winter) ago

stolen from somewhere. too beautiful not to be shared with the world

the winter is love because: the windows in the bus steam up and you can draw hearts and write names

the winter is love because: it's winter by the time you pass that place where you kissed him for the first time and it doesn't feel sad anymore

"alice, i am sad and grumpy. lets go and get drunk and shout at people and kidnap a tourist. or go and chill somewhere and have a cuddle"

i guess, i should really learn where to put my love. or whom to give it to

some boys were born to make you cry

how many people would never fall in love, if they hadn’t heard the word

500 days of augusto are finally over. i can breathe!

our files are confidential mr. barish so we can't show you any evidence. suffice it to say, miss kruczynski was not happy and she wanted to move on. we provide that possibility