Ever Left

I’ve always been lonely, alone in a maze of my own thoughts, trapped in a cell of others’ making. I’ve always been alone. I remember the first times I felt it–taking care of my little sister,  wondering if I was doing it right, having no one to ask. I never had friends, not real ones, […]

Cart and Rope

I always put the cart before the horse, as they say, or perhaps take a leap and realize I never hung the rope. It’s in my blood–irrationality, chaos, running. My parents ran–away from others, away from each other, away from us. We’ve all just been running through fire for so long that each step is […]

To Be

I wanted you to be more, to be this image, this fictional character I had concocted. I wanted you to be strong and perceptive, sweet and lonely, someone who could save me from the tattered world in which I wandered, but you weren’t those things. You were you, someone I didn’t know, someone who smelled […]

Happy Birthday 

I often wonder what you remember, which moments you relive when you think of us, which stills stayed all this time. Today, I remembered the last day. The drive near the ocean, windows down, my arm pressing back against the wind while guitar music floated out of the speakers. It was that one song, the […]

Summer Love

Her white thighs stuck to the black upholstery that had been baking under Florida’s sun, and she scrunched up her nose at the sudden shock of it. The car was hot but she was hotter, and he couldn’t take his eyes away. *** This was written in response to the Wicked Word Wednesday prompt, upholstery. I […]

The Shedding of Pieces 

The things we leave behind are also the things we carry. We slough off the people and places we outgrow, shake free from stale ideas and antique dreams, yet these fragments we try to lose are the scaffolding on which we live, grow, love, die. Without the shedding of pieces, we would not be ourselves, […]

Sweet Desolation 

They always come back eventually. They wander in and wait for their ghosts to destroy me, or they sit there wrapping themselves in glass blankets made from the wreckage I’ve created. Either way, we are both shattered, broken beyond fixing, yet we pick up our pieces, what’s left of our minds, hearts, bodies, and come […]

Bones and Blood

If my bones could talk, they would beg you to listen, to speak so that they may hear and know relief from the ache that’s whitewater rafting down their insides, from the missing that eats away at their fragile structures until nothing remains but ashen dust. If my blood could talk, it would ask you […]