Anni. 23. London.
I like cups of tea and pretty words.
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Honey Dipped Doughnut Waffles

Nonoo Spring/Summer 2013.
New York Fashion Week.

Pecan Cinnamon Rolls

Let’s hear it for the red, white, and chocolate.
An Ode to Cake on Call Me Cupcake

Jenny Holzer
When I realize I am small for the
first time,
I’m sitting on the floor in my
best friend’s bedroom.
I’m talking about how I can’t
seem to stop feeling like a liar
when a a boy on Tinder says he
wants to fuck me and then I’m

And then I’m crying and laughing
and apologizing because I’m crying,
and it won’t stop for anything,
and I swear I’ve never hurt with
such an emptiness before in my life.

I realize I am small and then
everything is too close, and then
I realize I’ve never been touched
on purpose, and then I realize
how empty twenty years old can
and how the fuck can someone go
twenty years without being touched?
Without being loved like that?

Here. For this,
I won’t write in the abstract.
This happened. This happens.
The nothingness starts getting
louder and then, when it finds
its name, there’s no ignoring it.
I am small and I don’t want to be.

I am good and kind
and funny. I can make you
laugh and you’ll never have to
remember me.
Thank you. Yes, please.
I understand. Bye. It was nice
meeting you. It’s okay.
For the third time, my name is
Caitlyn. You don’t have to spell
it right. No one ever does.

Where is the sky? Where is the string?
Where is the hand that burns?
Where is the mouth that stays?

I am not being looked for.
That’s the long and short of it.

In a parallel universe, someone hates
In a parallel universe, I have been
reckless and brave and ridiculous
and ugly.
Don’t make me prove it. I’m tired
just thinking about it.

Someone hug me. Someone
punch me in the face.
Grab my neck and mean it.
Someone pull it out of me.
Someone stand me up straight
and make me work for it.
Rip my heart out through my back
then hold it between your teeth.
I’ll be so thankful.
I’ll be so fucking thankful.