Poem: Grace
Yesterday, I opened a bottle of body scrub gifted to me by my mom. The scent is called Grace. I think she knows I don’t usually allow myself the luxury of things like this. The fragrance is heavenly, smelling like...
Tagged: coping
Poem: Inescapable
The problem with isolation from a pandemic— besides all the million obvious issues— is that it doesn’t allow us to run. We’ve carefully crafted coping mechanisms that have very little to do with coping and a whole lot to do...
