The stars: crossed. The sirens: singing. The moon: lonely and yet beautiful. So are we. But we can repair even the darkest of hinges if we let the light swing through.

Around here, women's mouths tremble and men, stunted and broad, stroll off and on like rolling tumbleweeds. There is so much I do not know: but, of cruelty I am certain.

Hold your grief together,they said. But my bones rattled in the tiniest of winds.

Nobody can love you the way your crooked heart loves the slant nature of your want.