When building a fairy tale, one must remember how to be a child: how to grow short limbs and a small nose. Here is a brief fairy tale about a munchkin and her friend, the hunter.


Break. But no brakes.

But we, we built a fort out of blankets and bad humor, overgrown marshmallows and a side of heartbreak. There is something in brown eyes and this is not, no, poetry, this is the mountains rebuilding in a different form, with someone new. This is deep red wine and cigarette smoke. This is a borrowed kiss in a bar on accident, but not a mistake. I don't know how to tell you without telling you, save repetition and slow kisses. It all sounds so much more. But you said to me, brushing burned hair behind small ears: "I'm an asshole." I could barely catch my breath, choking on laughter and irony. Do you know where we were? My answer: "I seek pain." My apologies, with you, brief. Nothing to explain, nowhere to go.