She opened like a flower to the light,
letting it wash over and warm her
as she displayed her insides, trembling
Each petal pulled and sighed and gave,
and she believed she was beautiful.
Gasping, pleasure moved to pain,
as heat overwhelmed her.
Her eyes opened, confusion becoming fear.
The light had misled her.
Blazing, it licked and consumed and took,
singeing away velvet,
leaving only ash.
She fell to fire, barreling and reckless.
beneath the earth, blanketed and encased,
a fragile seed remained untouched,
and waited for the sure arrival
of the sun.
It’s a strange act,
That precise moment
when I feel myself
until fully covered,
by false calm
and learned bravado.
*featured image created by Lisa McLymont
I find it more than a little difficult
to let things go.
My apartment is strewn with bits of paper:
old cookie fortunes, bus passes,
parking tickets, anything
I think I might need and a hundred things
I know I won’t.
I keep them, pressed
between the pages of books,
hidden under flowerpots,
scraps of memory
shoved beneath bed frames.
I find it difficult
to let you go.
My mind is littered with snapshots:
a shark in the stairs,
a laughing drug dealer with steady hands,
orange streetlights spilling
on a cracked sidewalk.
And my mind wonders,
“What if I need you?”
I keep you, pressed
between the halves of my brain,
hidden beneath my tongue,
your name, pinned,
just between my shoulder blades.
I used to be able
to tell you anything.
Through your silences
and perfectly-timed kisses,
you opened me up to every word
I wanted to speak.
they were stirred
by the taste
of your tongue.
we began unfolding.
Your smile breaks stillness,
ripples on a pond,
spreading to your eyes.
I breathe in water,
to drown happily
in your laughter.
You like to insist
that you were my first man;
the first to hold me in solid arms,
in a frame that would protect me.
You teased me saying I was half in love,
I was. Continue reading
God fucking damnit. Mia pulled the false lashes off for the second time. Glue made fine stringy lines before snapping and sticking to her eyelid, mixing with mascara. She was not off to a good start. Still, at least she wasn’t in a rush. There was exactly one hour before the shoot and an Uber to pick her drinking ass up. She had danced this tango before and knew it was a swirling dervish of long and immense suffering. Mia’s fingers picked at her eyelid and came away with what looked like gray boogers. She wiped them on her sweatpants and thought, Gross. This shit was ridiculous. But when she could blink and cause a hurricane, it would all be worth it.