There is a last time you hold your child. One day you'll put him down and never lift him again. Just as there is a last kiss, a last breath, a final step, a last fuck, a last word. It is not for us to know our lasts, mostly. It's better to be blind. To let the road bend where it will. It is not weakness; it is survival

I survived you. My lasts were long and painful. I know nothing of yours, but I hope yours hurt too if I'm honest. Do you remember the last time you turned the key in this front door? The last time you ran a bath? Or heard your children laugh, in the rooms I built? The architecture of love?
Thе last time you sent a quiet tеxt in that space of yours in the clouds?
The last time you told me I was "wrong"?
Or "angry"?
The last time you turned the key?

Now I will stitch each tiny sequinned feather this bird released. I am finished being tamed. I am animal

I have grown two hearts inside my belly. They are my purpose and my end. I will show them how to love. I will show them curve and grace and fire. I will show them what a woman is made of

I have grown two hearts inside my belly. I know a phoenix from a sparrow

This will be the last time I write to you. I have wings to sew