the moon is in libra, my luteal phase is coming to an end and there is a box of strawberry cake mix in the cupboard that i’ve yet to do anything with. each of these hold equal value to me

mustard and olive are the perfect names for a pair of cat siblings

the sunset has my sister’s eyes and when the sky transforms from a periwinkle into a magenta i am able to see her reflection in the horizon

the woman working at the gas station gave me two chocolate filled croissants for free tonight so i am feeling pretty grateful

blue agate in my purse, basil sprouts in my window and strawberry slices in my water

would you still love me if i was an old, worn sailor out at sea? or would you toss me aside for someone less nautical?

we were girls together

my word of the day is residual

women don’t want fancy jewelry. they want apple cores housed by hungry worms and reconciliation with their childhood stuffed animals

orange juice with grapes and granola for breakfast, interstitial journaling, the mourning doves continue to land on the fence, my sage still hasn’t sprouted, rewatching serial experiments lain, potato salad for dinner, the barn swallow chicks have finally hatched, the new moon is in leo

cancer new moon, knitting my bones into a spiral, banana and peanut butter smoothie with honey, eight of swords, dirty laundry, lotus pose

hungry enough to eat the gap between the way we used to know each other and the way we know each other now