Words by Natalia Prokopowicz
Don’t make me sad yet
pursuing the spark followed by a flame seems unoppressive.
Autmn jazz, verdant grey
waiting by the phone for you like a little kid. I’ll love you more, and I’ll always love you more as it should be
as it must. Deep in my jitters I’ll call out from the bottomless orange lilacs in a meadow. A cow, and some chickens
you planted a kiss on my cheek when it was dirty overgrown root’s.
No one stays long enough to sit with love no one stays long enough to try to.
I like seeing empty coffee dregs where people have been.