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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    How to braid my hair and tie a tie and parallel park and fold a fitted sheet and play the piano and ice-skate backwards and align our souls so that they may create a bridge our love can have a picnic on...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    “Give me a moment,” you suggested, as if I hadn’t given you eons I pulled the galaxies tighter around my shoulders, watching as you turned our love over in your heated hands When your gaze met mine again, I remembered the moment, the one before everything else, when it was just yo...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She flitted by, the missing note to the second movement of my symphony, and in that moment, I knew No longer may I acknowledge the dusting of starlight she leaves behind with every wink or the crescendo of her laugh as her pretense melts away From now on, we will coexist through diff...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Dear Teen Ink, Please give me the book so that I may find the page where my poem sleeps, memorize the shape of the text the page number the font the smell of my creation's new home,   and tell no one....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I tumbled down her rabbit hole. Her second home, a tucked-away place that she decided to make her own after an aimless walk through the woods alone. Everything was falling down. I heard the sound, one of shattered stars that resonated all around as I continued to drop towards the fast...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Loneliness and I are well acquainted, but you cannot call us friends. She always knows just when to drop in (smiling, appraising). Often, I don’t expect her; other times, I greet her at the door. Emptiness and I are intimate, but you cannot call us lovers. There is no love in her ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A rosy glow beholds her underneath the cafeteria’s fluorescent lighting. The sleepy fog of minimal consciousness drifts past, unable to permeate her intelligent shine. She is a pint-sized woman; the word “girl” cannot adequately describe her serious gaze as she turns the pages of he...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    did you hold your breath? Did you wait for the moment that meant you were no longer required to live? Did you glance around and see the snow you always longed for at Christmas? Did you hear every car, every onlooker, every buzz of the crosswalk telling people to go? Did you try to reach ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Gotta get dressed Gotta brush hair Gotta brush teeth Gotta make breakfast Gotta grab lunch Gotta wait on him   Get to eat breakfast Get to make coffee What’s taking him so long?   Get to watch cartoons Gotta scrape off windows Oh, don’t have to Gotta wipe off condensation...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    My cupid's bow is crooked; sometimes the words I launch find their way to someone who wasn't the intended target...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    I'm sorry mother but I'll be late for dinner Netherland's calling...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I drag my jangling limbs to the reflective pond that hangs over my sink and say “hi” to the me who only exists without molds and ghoulish standards when the fluorescent lighting hums along to the quiet of the night...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I’m only able to face you when the house rhythmically creaks with every sleepy breath Impulse throws me to the floor, keeping my warmth in a head under the comforter I evolve in moments, crawling down the brittle hall, walking into your lair Icy tile anchors me, its hand holding min...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The DOA cause no trouble Doctors with addictions and nurses with work ethic appreciate their quiet manner It is those who linger that are irksome with their disregard for others as they clutch bedrails and shriek for no one Someone has to empty those beds, and that someone will drift d...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She slips through the film of his dream, aware she’s late to the show The zinc-coated audience offers her a seat Her footsteps sharply whisper “hush” as she walks to the stage Actors cry tears of cellophane; the writer lets them She yanks the script from his ink-soaked hands H...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The box seems too small Still, she smiles at its leaning frame and trails a finger down the side covered in residue of its past life Movement in her fingers, which had been rigid like she’d caught frostbite again, slows; grabbing objects becomes a caress, and her digits flow, as if d...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The newspaper said it was an accident; she, of course, could not comment...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I stared at you for weeks, trying to place that glossy, peculiar look your eyes brim with The knowledge of chemistry offered to me on a spoon was not nearly as appetizing as watching you learn It was not obvious; you don’t wear your emotions like you wear striped sca...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Smoke unfurls, closing its heavy fingers around his concrete-drenched soul The heat of his essence has been smoldering for as long as his questions have gone unanswered Flames lace his veins, urgently whispering “you are alive” to reassure him in the dark A fraction of himself like...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    My mother told me not to look at the stars. We lived in a town that no one will ever use as a synonym for a well-known landmark. It was a setting that had a low population. Houses were spread out, creating the illusion that the small town which we dwelled in stretched farther than we could compr...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    I want to write. It’s not a sharp strike of lightening to my mind that makes my fingers twitch with desire to fly across the keyboard. I think of it as something that’s always in my veins. That said, there are moments when the feeling surges, and I start smiling. Thoughts begin spilling over, ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    When I was four years old, I looked at my father with innocent eyes and asked him what death was. My father- a man who brims with intelligence and has had the same glasses frames for twenty years- did not sit me down at the dinner table while he pondered this. I instead stood at his feet, peering ...
  • Opinion > Social Issues / Civics
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    As a young girl with short hair that could not be elegantly curled or pinned up in any fashion, I was not called a beautiful child. Instead, I was called adventurous. This adjective was very fitting as I enjoyed climbing trees, exploring creeks, and playing games with the neighbor boys that result...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    The swamp was not a home to sympathy. Teeming with darkness, the water stained the mud surrounding it with cloudy shadows. Occasionally, a lily pad would glide across the surface of the water, the flower’s perfume battling the smell of rot that hung in the air like heavy sighs. The village n...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I walked into the lake again Last time it was Autumn, and the wind had howled “Go back! You fool, you nave, do not follow your reflection down!”   (But Spring has a delightful wind that had giggled in my ear and tugged on my hand with youthful enthusiasm)   My arrival in t...

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