Artwork by Erin Ibrahim

The poetess sat at her desk by the crackling fire, satisfied with the fine work of art she had crafted—it was ready to be gifted. She caressed it, gently in the way she’d strum the strings of her guitar. Music filled silent spaces in her head before spilling into the room. She twirled towards the window where purple pansy, withered wild daisies and lemon-scented candle wax scattered lazily over unsent letters. She placed the gift next to the letters and picked up a pen. Under the dim fire light she wrote, I made this mixtape for you.