Still Life

The problem with stillness is that the moment you notice it’s there, it’s given weight. Once acknowledged, it starts to grind over you, smearing you beneath the hands of a clock. The silence is not comfortable, but imposing, asking you if what you have to say is really worth anything, if it’s even enough to…

Empty Me

I’ve told you I’m no good at discarding the beautiful, the keepsakes, the nostalgic, the useless. With no discrimination, no exclusions, “Everything Must Stay!” And stay it has. Your section gathering dust, a menagerie of memories that catch under my skin. A faded emporium gagging on trinkets of costume jewelry and barbie doll memories. Pointed, plastic…

The Poetry Reading

Everyone’s afraid to touch the microphone, everyone except you. You, reflected in the bottom of a water glass, sun in every window, bouncing off buildings, and turning your outline into art. You, with shoulders relaxed, chest rising easily with each soft laugh. Sweet, and genuine, and self-assured, a real natural. Deliberate and calm, handing that…

People Scare Me

People scare me because I’m seeing more and more the uninhabited rooms within them. Or should I say the rooms that are rented out by something else. They keep telling me stuff will work out, suggesting jobs that make me want to put a gun under my chin, and saying that’s normal. Suicidal unhappiness in…

Motherhood

A once-prized Dolce and Gabbana handbag lying in the corner of the bathroom floor, stained in tiny, makeup-covered fingerprints, empty, save two bright hair ties for little girl braids.

#lust

I think you wanted it to hurt. I think you liked the thought of me, knotted up with jealousy, chained by hashtags half-written to open up the skin and drag out insecurities. You saw my body deserving of a few small cuts, because I didn’t give you enough proof that I gave a fuck… It…

Sunflower

She opened like a flower to the light, letting it wash over and warm her as she displayed her insides, trembling but unashamed. 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…

Con(fident)

It’s a strange act, receding. That precise moment when I feel myself recoil, folding in, and in, down, and down, until fully covered, blanketed, by false calm and learned bravado. . . *featured image created by Lisa McLymont

Keepsake

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. Still, I keep them, pressed between the pages of books, hidden under flowerpots, scraps…

Ache

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. Vulnerability, honesty, they were stirred by the taste of your tongue. And together we began unfolding.