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I wish to live in the time of Brontë & Austen
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I folded my skin tighter than a sailor's knot. Hiding edges where my mother sewn her catholic sermons and my father's penchant for rebellious women in tight corsets. I used to be able to whistle away a tune, whenever a lover walks off my life, now I just stare at the hole they leave at my door.
A human shape outline, like one of those cartoon shticks scene, where the roadrunner runs away from the coyote. I am at the precipice of an age, where a spinster seems more inviting to be one, than a widow. The idea of being so achingly comfortable with being alone, and not be lonely, is a familiar conundrum. But a...
I folded my skin tighter than a sailor's knot. Hiding edges where my mother sewn her catholic sermons and my father's penchant for rebellious women in tight corsets. I used to be able to whistle away a tune, whenever a lover walks off my life, now I just stare at the hole they leave at my door.
A human shape outline, like one of those cartoon shticks scene, where the roadrunner runs away from the coyote. I am at the precipice of an age, where a spinster seems more inviting to be one, than a widow. The idea of being so achingly comfortable with being alone, and not be lonely, is a familiar conundrum. But a...
