♡
Poem

New episodes and poems land in your email inbox as they're written.

You're on the list — welcome.

Comfort as a Service

Most traps don't look like cages. Most arrive smiling, asking how your day was.

Sheridan Guerrette·August 12, 2026

Is it me?
You?

Tell me where his eyes land
and I'll rearrange the room.

Your most shameful desires,
mixed the bottle before you knew
you were thirsty.

I set the lights low enough,
so your loneliness looked intentional.

Just enough attention
to make the chair fit better.

Just enough eye contact
to make you forget
you were planning to leave.

Most traps don't look like cages.
Most arrive smiling,
asking how your day was.

And by the time you notice
the room was built around you,
you've already called it 'my home.'

← Previous

Flowers Covered His Skin

Next →

Mr. Cigar

Sheridan Guerrette in a knit dress blowing a kiss to her reflection in an elevator mirror, black and white photo

Still Here? Good.

New episodes and poems land in your inbox as they're written — no algorithm between you and the words.

Paid members are mailed a handwritten poem from me every month, with a letter beside it, written just for them. $8 a month or $80 a year.