When I last saw you, you were wearing a pink shirt
and I was scared you might fall down or talk back,
you might crush to a dust of giggles.
Someday I’ll be married and my
full self will be someone else’s problem,
the arrangement, the allegedness, of portrait.
For now you don’t love me and in that decision
is boneless potential,
it skis the valley, wears pants.
My grandmother used to show me trees teenagers had carved into.
She said bad kids did it. They were birches, pee-yellow with

More In: romance

Casanova Was More Than a Good Lover

The Infamous Seducer Wasn’t Merely After Conquest. He Chased Intelligent Conversation and Passionate Affairs to Remember.

He first saw Henriette when she was travelling with an army officer and disguised as a man, though everyone could tell that she was a beautiful woman. His love grew …

Stuffed Lines

When dead (when you’re dead), jealousy feels six times worse, otherwise everything is the
Same deal. Back in life, they put my intimate, personal letters in the second-best collection …


The uncorked bottle waiting
to lead us into five uneven
glasses of Bordeaux because
you are you and I am nothing
but the cheapest kind of date
still able to …