like morning.

i think a lot about your eyes
…and how painful it is to be
in a room full of people with such
empty pockets and words that are
so heavy i cannot lift them from
the fog.

you are the greatest secret
if i could i would hold you between
my hands like morning.

Alison Malee

before i know how to say it.

Madisen Kuhn

the light.

Jeanette Winterson

neither.

… the overwhelming majority disliked [“childless” and “childfree”], with one being seen as stigmatising and the other gleeful and nasty in its implication that parents somehow need “liberating”.

… that’s one reason why – when absolutely necessarily – “doesn’t have children” is the kindest, most neutral descriptor we can hope for. Though we can also hope to be moving away from one’s parenting status needing to be defined at all, especially for women, who still face this question far more frequently than men. Language matters, and as ever it often says more about us and our assumptions than we realise.

read more here.

so much.

you have no idea how much.

lighthouse.

a flicker in your eyes that tells everyone in the room that i am more than just.

those blues you sang.

from here.

someday. (4)

keep going when you’re on a high…

Uncertainty.

mumbling over

my own tongue,

so fat and full.

like grapes

never plucked

from the vine.

my tongue is

alcohol spilling;

time drunk and burdensome.

every word tastes like uncertainty.

like tar black midnight

in the quiet afternoon.

truthfully, i just want to say

i love you and

have that be enough.

ALISON MALEE

happy valentine’s day

scorpionnrl illustrations

And There Will I Be

for-ever

I dream you still. And there I will be.

You don’t know my name. This is the past. And us is just a butterfly effect that didn’t happen. We are apart and at peace, just as before your eyes met mine, before our hands brushed and our words hushed. Before our secrets born into judging eyes. This is before everything.

And I am telling you this so you will search for me no more.

“I Want These Dreams Inside of Me”, When I My Own Daughter

I Can’t Grow A New Heart

kurt cobain baby

these stories, they come to me in dreams the first time I fell asleep since they told me you’ve fallen into flatline

I dream you

sometimes in colours, green and oranges, purples and blues, and not bleak nor dark, we are not in the shadows

in these dreams, our children they’re born. they’re not sucked to death, they’re not stillborn nor bled away

they live and we give

names to their innocent loving faces

the eldest has my eyes, her brother has your smile

in these dreams we’re not bitter

we’re not numb from pain

in these dreams you are standing tall

little daughter dances on your devoted steadfast feet

her brother clung to your arms, his head rests on your secure and sturdy shoulder.

he’s falling into another dream.

in these dreams, I dance with you under the chuppah

and you recite a long vow, a song we used to hum

before we went to sleep

about lovers

lost

and again,

found.

 

On birthdays that are wiser,

On Letters to Lovers Lost.