I stood in that restaurant on that busy Sunday evening. It was our favorite place to eat at. He was my favorite thing about this restaurant. It has been three months since I set foot in here. It has been three months since I learned he died overseas. I can’t tell if I died… Continue reading Orange Soda and Ashes; a Flash Fiction.
The broken can recognize each other from across the room across the street across town They greet each other with a “hello” and a “good luck” in perfect agony And the mouths of the broken only know how to break. They break sentences into words And words into syllables And syllables into letters And letters… Continue reading The Broken; a poem
I only drove three miles down the street. Then I parallel parked between two mini vans. I cradled this pain. At least I could feel that. At least it was better then nothing. I could hear my phone vibrating from phone calls as I watched the sun rise. I did not pick it up.… Continue reading Be Okay Again: Part 2; A Flash Fiction
I leaned into him she put an arm around me and an arm under his head. He stared at the ceiling as I ran my fingers over the scars littered around his hips. Those scars. Those scars he made out pain. I flinched as I touched the fresh ones he made just after this mornings… Continue reading Be Okay Together: Part 1; A Flash Fiction
She slammed the door to their apartment with purse in hand. She pulled on the car door. It did not open, and so she pulled the handle the couple more times before looking for the keys. They weren’t in her purse. She looked back at the apartment. She could see her keys sitting on the… Continue reading Dear Love…; A Flash Fiction
My heals clicked the hospital floor abnormally loud as I walked down to his hospital room. There was a constant beeping that seemed to have no rhythm. The only still in that room was his still and half lifeless body sinking in the hospital bed. I sat down on the chair beside his bed and… Continue reading It’s What You Didn’t Do; a flash fiction.
I hope I was your first violin hipped poet Because you were my first rainy dayed “Baby you’re beautiful.” I hope that if you find you want someone else’s finger tips pressed against your bed frame that she tastes like sun downs. Because I could never tastes like sun downs. I’ve got too much shot… Continue reading A Whisper; a poem.