Sing to me muse, of the cunning god Hermes,
luck-bringing messenger and the thieves’ god.
Cunning from birth and full of sweet song.
Trickster, brother and adversary to Apollo.
Deathless shadow of childhood’s cheer.
Taker and maker of life and death.
This story from the vault takes the form of a poem originally written in June of 2021, with minor edits in October of 2021.
My love is constant & chaos.
It lies beneath my skin.
It reassures me I’m not alone.
It chips away at hatred within.
Valentine’s Day isn’t really my jam, but I was in a philosophical mood, so I wrote some poems about the many shapes and sizes of love.
I feel fractured/ something fundamental/ is broken inside of me./ My pieces aren’t ticking/ and tocking the way they should.
Grief is such a small word/ How can only five letters/ Encompass the vast sea/ Of emotions crashing/ The waves tearing me apart?
This poem is somewhat an ode to my tattoos, but I’ve gotten more tattoos since then. I hope you enjoy!
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