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  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    March This is me without you. I am with him. In fact, I am very much with him. I tell him I love him and he tells me he loves me back, but I’m without you, and that’s the main point. He comes to my car once a week, or once a month, or once in a blue moon, and he kisses me long and hard...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    An old man sits before me, haggard, but he is only twenty-three years old. How could this be? His face is taught and not a wrinkle creases his skin, his muscles protrude from his ancient sweater, and his eyes are an ocean of life. His voice is a deep rumble from the depths of his chest, a volcano er...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    He changed his profile picture. He switched it to one with his head thrown back in laughter; his mouth is wide open, his eyes are dancing, and I can see the little cross chain he wears around his neck clutched in between his fingers. His shirt says Obey on it in bold red letters. I can’t help ...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    Kip holds my head gently against his bare chest and lets me listen to his quickly beating heart. I breathe slowly as his long piano fingers rake through my mess of hair and reach toward my stripped back. I press myself firmly onto him, and he tips my head back with his thumb as he softly kisses my h...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i am spinning in a chair, with jet black hair, but my hair is blonde. why is my hair black? the chair gives way from underneath my body, and a boy catches me. he looks familiar. i knew the boy a long time ago. why did he dye my hair black? he laughs, and i remember his laugh. his laugh ma...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    My mind has been racing with thoughts of dread and utter heartbreak since I opened my eyes this morning. I lay there for a long moment, gripping my quilt to my chin and just imagining myself never getting up. What would happen? Perhaps the world would stop just for me. I met Mason six months back...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Ajax Stephens has eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea in the brightest daylight, but from far away they are the purest shade of gray. Only when you stand on tiptoe next to his six foot six frame and stare straight into his eyes can you identify that beautiful tone of blue. “Your eyes are gray f...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I hate the ocean. However, August loves it. He loves the way the salt sticks to him until he washes it all off in the shower. He loves the aqua color of the Caribbean, and how he can see the cream colored fish swim in between his open legs. He loves the burn in his eyes when he accidentally open...

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