Propped upright

Upright because I can breath

no other way
Propped like a doll in a pillow shop
placed snug between designer pillows
Except I’m no designer item
Just a prop
A comfort
a symbol of home
I am home between the pillows
not because of the pillows
I’m home because the stuff inside me
the stuff that fills me to the brim
it’s all I need
whether in a shop

in the arms of a loved one

or left to collect dust
doesn’t matter
I am home

Stitched Together

From time to time I think of you

From minute to minute you cross my mind

From hour to hour I’m lost in our fantasies

If I stopped I might lose you

So I leave myself little reminders

Moons and doors

and stars as big as your eyes

The truth is I don’t need reminders

But they bring me closer to you

-Sasch

A Distant Symphony

There’s this tiny space inside me. It has a tiny door with a button handle. A button you’d sew on a shirt. It was a fancy gold one. Round and shiny. I could hear music playing from the other side so I got on all fours and placed my ear right up against it. The music didn’t grow louder it stayed as distant but I could see flickers of light dancing just below the door. Then the smell of cookies and gasoline and cupcakes and charcoal intertwined in my nostrils. It was conflicting but curious. There was only one way to solve this. I had to turn the gold button knob and open the door to that tiny place inside me.