Maybe one night when we collapse onto your bed at four in the morning, we can listen to heartbeats and laughter instead of laying there in silence until one of us is ready to open up. I understand that it takes time to tell our stories, but I find myself excited to hear yours and vulnerable enough to want to share mine. I want to talk about your hands and your eyes when you undress me, the sound that slips your mouth when our skin collides, and the way your fingers slip between the spaces I try to hide… read more >
Collecting or Hoarding?
Collecting or Hoarding? That is the question. I’ve been accused of both at one time or another and while a room like this freaks a
