Yes, I still miss you. I wait for you in ordinary places. Like while I am watching the steam roll out of my coffee cup, driving, at work, the beach. And even the times’ life feels too much to even grasp at the steering wheel or a toothbrush or a book spine. And even the… Continue reading What I Am Trying To Say; a poem
It came wrapping on my bones plucking my ribs cage open splitting my blood like a red sea except there was no Moses or people And it felt like there could be no God in this It came in trembling It came in like collapsing flesh Like decaying finger tips There was no… Continue reading You; a poem
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