We are criminals. We are murderer… We set futures ablaze with the emb… We stuff black smoke down the thro… All while we clutch our own childr… But the battered mother still love…
There’s a dead bird on the side of… Like the bodies at the lake floors… Except this one had the insolence… The poor, stupid thing must’ve flo… I thought
Happy near August– the air felt like autumn today and I thought of you like our knees were still touching in the backseat of the cab. It made me wonder if maybe our story is stored in t...
I did not want to kiss of course not but I wanted you to know I was st… in the passenger seat next to you I wanted to speak your language
My legs feel stretched and beaten like exhausted dough. I can feel my heartbeat pulsing in my knees, casting blood to the wounds and blisters tickled with salt water on my palms. My sop...
Turn the lights off My fingertips graze your spine, lo… I’m trying not to read the scoldin… Deter my hands from feeling out th… Silence the whimpers of the white-…
A ritual turned to a riptide, it pulled you from us. “This is not you, it’s not you” I would whisper, clutching my own hands in something of my own kind of prayer while you tore through...
I have returned home from the part… Smoke is clinging to my hair and t… I have to squint when the phone bu… “Are you awake? I need you” I am spread limply atop purple bed…
Be the rabbit The muted dust cloud of life, smal… But although slight, the sight of… He sits like the first buttercup o… A lost earring in a shag carpet
Every summer’s Sunday for nine years had always been the same. My brother James and I would walk the uphill trail near our childhood home to reach a view over the reservoir. He would pa...
To have been in love is to be impr… Every piece of art I have made fo… It is as if even my paintbrushes t… Are constructed from your hair The fact that atheism itself presc…
You met a high school girl today. She was sat on the beach, wasn’t s… Her painted toes digging into the… Her hair told stories the way old… It whipped wildly against her spin…
Love does not knock sweetly at the… Not like a new neighbor with warm… It reaches its tentacles through t… Seeps through the cracks in the wa… Smears its residue on the window f…
The wind’s salty breath rushed between her curls, fashioned them into whips splayed across her face It was two in the morning, she had gotten the message three hours ago. Her chest ache...
