The Mercenary of Sunbeams
They call this 'healing.' I call it a well-rehearsed performance
Cinderella’s Coach
The Sweetness of Seasonal Delusion
They call this 'healing,' as if a slice of overpriced
The Sugar-Coated Trap of Domesticity
They call this 'healing.' A weekend getaway to a forest
The Sunshade Delusion in Beige Silk
He calls this 'healing.' He brought me to an old
The Sterile Ritual of Intimacy
I stand before the mirror in a bathroom that smells of expensive
The Sprint Towards a Beautiful Mistake
I am running across this crosswalk like a character in some low-budget
The Altar of Beautiful Lies
I stand here in this white shroud, looking like a saint who’
The Warmth of Wet Noses and Cold Hearts
They call this 'healing.' I call it a strategic truce
The Architecture of Loneliness and Lace
I’m standing on this rooftop, wearing a white bikini that costs
The Fresh Produce of Mutual Delusion
I am wearing my 'spontaneous joy' face—the one that
The Temperature of Temporary Belonging
They call this 'healing,' as if we are all just
The Helium Halo of Despair and Desire
I’m wearing a white dress that suggests purity, though we both
