Sleeping Pills
You said maybe there’s a reason for this pain,
which doesn’t explain
why I’m loving cigarettes again Continue reading Sleeping Pills
Tag: writing
If We Got Our Shit Together
And the wondering … ensues as walls of oncoming traffic would in commotion with my standing forever blissfully in the left-hand turn lane. Life rushes by and my emotions are so near collision but just out of reach to really know that it’s cataclysmic. Continue reading If We Got Our Shit Together
Bedside Manner
That quivering tone your voice takes,
I want to always know
its sound as you meander through stories.
I want to always feel your breath,
growing heavy as you tire,
coming out in wafts as you laugh,
binding up in the back
of your throat as you grow tender. Continue reading Bedside Manner
You Were Mine and Then …
I get an infinitely vague sensation like you’d been holding me — one arm around my waist and the other up my back. Maybe at one point, you’d held me close enough that your breath rushed down my neck amid the slow, automated motion of your chest rising and falling. I can trace the very thread of memories as if I’d lived them until it all unravels in an instant. Continue reading You Were Mine and Then …
The Fine Art of Bed Making
There’s a certain way that you lay the sheets and quilts — perhaps more generously to one side — that … Continue reading The Fine Art of Bed Making
Coffeehouse Distractions
“You know her from the high school paper?” his companion asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “For me, it was just a thing. But she …” He paused. “She took it really far.”
I smiled to myself, realizing that someone had kept up inadvertently with my college journalism career. It was weird. Like all my hard work somehow mattered in a way other than just the obvious. There at Kaya, though alone in a corner, I felt seen. Continue reading Coffeehouse Distractions
Stardust
It’s a thermos. It’s a postcard. It’s a shirt you left at my place. Your chicken is burnt, like your … Continue reading Stardust
Pent-Up Aching Rivers 