I fell in love with a girl
who picked flowers instead
of arguments and had no
time for bad things
because she so carefully
curled herself
against them.
you were summer recklessness
but you always had these
two rules : stay with me
and dont become a ghost
again.
Katherine Mansfield, “At the Bay”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Letter to his 11 yr old daughter. (1933)
does the sun
stretch his hands
towards the moon
at sunsetdoes she cry
when she rises
and sees him
already descendingimagine always reaching
for someone you
could never have;
imagine losing them
twice a day
forever.