Self-portrait
Perpetual
I ask her, “Do you ever think of me?”
And she sighs out an answer, “Only when I breathe.”
Photography by Abigail Saturday
War
To say, “I love myself” and mean it, is the quietest, most brutal war you will ever fight.
Photography by Scott Rust
Stolen
Photography by Richard Andrews
Hollow
We part and a hollowness fills my chest. It’s as if you have taken something from me, cut me open and stolen my most intimate things. You go, and I am left here, searching my body for scars.
Self-portrait
Hide
She loved the rain,
but only from the shelter of inside.
So it should come as no surprise
that when she said she loved me,
it meant she’d run and hide.
Photography by Morgan Root
Killer
Rapacious
There’s a reason shooting stars don’t stray too close. They know the nature of humans- greedy and wanton. We would grab hold of that fire with our bare hands if we ever had half a chance. We would swallow it whole if it got us drunk on all the wishes that have been poured into the night sky.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Reminisce
If I could bottle a memory, I’d take the ones of you and wear them like a locket around my neck.
If I could hold you in my hands, I’d cling to those days like rosary.
If I could, I’d turn to you if ever I needed a reason to smile.
Photography by Abigail Saturday
Siren
If a siren sang to me, I am certain she would look and sound like you.
Photography by Richard Andrews