Gutting The Apartment Upstairs

From time to time, the sun will set hot on my memories and leave the cooling to a breeze that swings by my house and kicks my front door down just to tickle my lips and call us square, but I bite my lip when I stand in line, self serving at a checkout, juggling … Continue reading Gutting The Apartment Upstairs

Sunflowers

Do you remember that time when we sat together, apart from each other, worlds away? You asked me if it was okay to lay your head in my lap and I told you I would love nothing more than to run my fingers through your dreams and talk about when we could plant our gardens. … Continue reading Sunflowers

Game Night

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

Tell Me Something Beautiful

Tell me how the sunshine felt on your face after you dropped to your knees and swore you could no longer go on. Tell me that the warmth of its rays reached out to warm the tears from your eyes and kiss the cries from your lips. Tell me you found something beautiful in the … Continue reading Tell Me Something Beautiful

That One Summer

I had yet to feel your sweat on my neck, but I knew I loved you already. Like red roses pulling yellow streaks, and green thumbs dipped in sugar, I loved you. Like desperate phone calls made to lonely operators in the middle of the night, just this side of the beach, I loved you. … Continue reading That One Summer

Battle Cries Blaring

Cry. Scream. Give the world your fucking worst, it won't go easy on any of us, but you best get your ass back up with your battle cries blaring. You are a goddamned warrior and even warriors have moments when they question their own worth, go ahead and question it, but do it quickly, the … Continue reading Battle Cries Blaring

Stories Like Her

They write stories about women like her, the kind of women who smell like smoke and secrets, taste like whiskey neat and ache, always ache, for last call; the stories that are burned inside of memories and outside of libraries, the kind of stories that make even the driest bones wet and the holiest knees … Continue reading Stories Like Her