Because, well, love shouldn’t be treated as if it’s a privilege, meant only for those who fit the heteronormative, sexual mold.

Each polyamorous relationship is different. So, there are no rules. But that does not have to be a bad thing.

There was this bench in the park. Hidden away behind a wisteria tree that was purportedly a hundred years old.

Amaya’s lunches were a piece of art. Packed in mason jars of three different sizes, full of colour and textures and flavours.