A labor of self love

I have let myself slide, fall, and hurt.
I wanted to disintegrate and reintegrate,
and witness how that it is done.

Circle

Although I have arrived, 

I continue to walk, 

Wandering through illusions, 

Enveloped in their embrace, 

from newborn to old age.

On your birthday

You smelled of lavender and lemon, of sleepy mornings, of headaches and restlessness, of vague perfume and cigarettes and coffee. Your skin, white and soft like a spring flower, was sick with sadness and daydreaming.