Hush.

I think you owe me.

You never took the time to know me.

Never figured out just how to touch.

Always reminded me I was just too much.

I think you owe me.

Couldn’t ever make me blush.

Always in a rush.

I found my voice to tell you,

but you said baby, hush.

–S.

Do stray dogs go to heaven?

It feels like I’ve never belonged to anybody but me.

Do stray dogs go to heaven?

I guess I’ll find out and see.

I’ve been searching and I’ve found no trace.

Is home a thing, person, or place?

If you could give me this one kindness, and just let me know.

I need some help knowing where to go.

–S.

dear harrison,

the ac is out in the corolla and summer’s on her way to texas. lately it seems like a sick metaphor for my life. things dying. i find myself alternating between walking in grief or in fear. we try our best to hold on to everything that crosses our paths, but so much of life is having to let go of those same things. i know that on the other side of grief is acceptance or peace, but when you’re in it, it just feels like the world ending.

i listen to every sound the car makes now like stairs creaking in an old house. that’s what fear does. it makes you hyperaware of everything around you. you’re always waiting for the next big scary thing.

fear is a held breath.

i know that the world has ended for me on many nights and begun again in the morning. realistically i know that i’ll be okay. that no matter how i fall, i’ll still be staring up at the sky.

did you know that rock bottom has a basement?

time for me to crawl now.

all my love, suncica

Pick-up Truck.

All of this shit gets heavy.

I could fill up the back of a chevy.

I could use a pick up,

a lift up.

All of this shit gets heavy.

It could overflow a levee.

I could use a hand,

in the flooding.

I thought it was real,

and it wasn’t.

–S.