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the devil’s wise because he’s old, not because he’s the devil.
She wanted rodeo but got dressage instead: I would paint my lips all pretty, tie a red kerchief around my neck, and pin a red carnation to my cowboy hat before walking onstage, because I’ve been an artist since I was a “little boy.”
So what you’re saying is he’s got another woman, but he’s still yours? Please. It’s never okay to be the understudy, ever.
Because masculinity is like marzipan: fragile as hell, queen.
When they found my body, no one called me Julia. As if a little plastic card with a photo on it meant more than a whole lifetime of transformations.
Being a woman means living in a state of emergency.
No one is ever ready for the death of someone they love. But this wasn’t death. It was theft. You were stolen, violently ripped from my side.
the way I see it, your bones have been gathered. I hope someday I get to hear you howling in the night.
