1 sept 2019



I should be writing but then again I should be arranging flowers

I should wash my self

Delicately

Immaculately

I should clean the sheets

But it’s too late

P e r f u m e

Of my flowers before they die.

Until tomorrow there will be no sun

I should be reading

and combing my hair (It is so damage, and yet all this is about learning

to love,

even me)

And breathing

And living.