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...
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
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…
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…
An empty embrace. A hug between two shells, two empt… “Look at how grown you are, I cannot believe you are already d… This is how we operate.
Feathers and delicate bones assemb… prescribed to them like shadows It’s just the way things are, we still walk to work. Sometimes, on our better days, we’…
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...
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
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…
I know that you are afraid. The first tree to sing this April… It only knows the roar of the cree… Screams, indistinguishable from do… How should a tree know the sound o…
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...
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…
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...
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-…
