hey everyone! how are y’all doing? please tell me in the comments!

i have a book recommendation! a friend said i would hate it but i laughed so hard i cried at parts, and i actually cried at parts. it’s called persepolis, and it’s by marjane satrapi, an iranian writer. truly an incredible book and worth the read.

in quarantine, i’ve been constantly learning to do new things. i’ve taken on an almost manic energy. it’s so important, for me at least, to keep moving and not lose momentum, or else i collapse and don’t move for the rest of the day. in this however, i’m learning how to cook and bake! (don’t make cloud bread. i repeat, do not make cloud bread. bread of lies.) has anyone ever made meringue or macarons somewhere with high humidity? i’m scared it won’t work.

alright! onto the poem for today. forewarning: everything i post is old, as i’m constantly submitting to magazines and a common requirement is that everything is unpublished. this includes blogs and instagrams. so, everything here and on my instagram (@a.m.hart.poet) is most likely a year or so old *at least*. that being said, here is ‘maybe i am the extra puzzle piece’, written almost 3 years ago.

for me

you were a life raft

in the churning sea of my existence

for you

i was an enigma

you couldn’t figure me out

so you let me go

-maybe i am the extra puzzle piece

thanks again for listening to me ramble! be excellent to each other.

abbie