Lines cut, lines crossed highs hit, friends lost Move left, slither right hands up, blindside Is it all just a game played in good jest, or does luck play a hand in sinking the rest? Is it all just a game determined by fate, or will you be the one left to sit in checkmate? … Continue reading Game Night
I don’t want to live this life anymore, but you are pinks and deep hues, the tangerine clouds behind sunsets that giggle and puff themselves into the shape of my mother, when she slouched proudly against the cupboards that robbed my air. You are the pink of her that opened the doors on their mothers … Continue reading Robbing Air
I have loved as I have never been loved, and in loving as I have never been, I have held the hands of gods and laid weeping before the closed fists of disappointment dripping with my own blood and barely skimming forgiveness. Perhaps it will come to me, this love, a love, beneath your bed, … Continue reading Under Your Bed
He told me how brave I was, writing my story into a sea of stigma, how my words, my voice, would break waves and save souls, a lighthouse for the mentally ill, the distraught, the unloved. I told him no. He told me how beautiful I was, smiling sadly with eyes like burnt moons hiding … Continue reading I Told Him No
A Must Read from Our Lady of Lust and Grace Source: Wildling Child
Yes, I remember you. I remember the hitch and the gasp before my veins opened up into fields upon fields upon barren wastelands. I remember how thunder felt that night when a thousand wild stallions carried my pulse around the mountains of my bones and placed it where I hoped I would never remember you … Continue reading Yes, I Remember You
This piece was originally published on Feminine Collective I still remember the way adrenaline burned when my pulse raced to sync with the others, between flashes of light, and the gulp of yours. I still remember the way deviance danced in my veins when my pulse raced to sync with the others, between stops, and licking … Continue reading Between Flashes
the maiden, mother and caffeinated crone
Poetry and prose by Basilike Pappa
a division of Blank Paper Press
collective of indie-published writers & readers who want to discover them
