Untethered
We tend to think of death as that one moment, the one that stands between the final breath and the void that follows in all its silence and emptiness. Until that point, you’re alive. This
A Poem on Womanhood and A Poem for My Mother
WOMANHOOD My chocolate colored coat smells of arabica coffee beans and samples of perfume bottles I cannot afford yet The linen doesn’t feel secure anymore I am changing along with my wool fabric This is