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  • Fiction > Action-Adventure
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    After she had met me, her ledger dripped with red. Then again, it had been dripping before we'd met- that's what I had noticed about her first. There was no metaphorical journal that held the contents of her past crimes. Naturally there are records of her, as there are of most everyone. She did ...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    1807 In order to complete his initiation into bachelorhood, Matthew Moresby decides to have his living room repainted. The young man, only 22 years of age, has been feeling the need to bring about change in his new house. It is a small apartment, one he rents from an elderly woman with his wag...
  • Poetry > Song Lyrics
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    I'm waiting for a boy To notice my stare And find me Before I disintegrate I can't deny I linger As I fade away But I'm hoping to be seen For more than a shadow I don't wanna be an afterthought Beautiful for my anonymity If that's all you want of me Then you can live in my memory I ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    Slowly, like falling asleep, I was enveloped by a film that I’ve only touched in dreams. She became a candle, warm and soft as she manned her station at the helm of the ivory keys. My eyes were drawn to her fingers as they deftly swept across the keyboard. They shook not with anxiety, but with...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Balloons. Introvert. Brother....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    If I were an artist, I would want to make a journal out of my skin and capture every moment you remind me to feel like a galaxy....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Dear Boy Wearing a Gray Sweatshirt, Sorry I startled when you turned your head and your gaze met mine across the maroon-stone counter. I hope you did not assume that you were at fault for your existence. I was simply surprised that you would include me in your observations as you swept...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I long to touch the world. My palms tremble with want to run themselves along the paths many have taken, to absorb the souls who walked and ran before me. She skirts just out of my reach. It’s a game to her, this allusive dance that she controls. I will never be close enough to whisp...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    “It’s time,” he croaks, his fever-bright heart thumping every minute or so. A glance is cast to our rain-coated window. The world has seemed to take notice of him. I do not let the word “now” slip through my lips, lugging a question mark along as luggage. We ride the sidew...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    My bones throb. My hips pound. My ears sting. My heels burn. My tongue’s unraveling and my eyes are cold and my fingers are stuttering and my nose twinges and my heart forgot how to keep rhythm again and my palms are numb and my lips are jagged and I think I am tired....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I never understood the sensual appeal of cherry lip gloss until you began to speak. The sunlight chose that moment to fall against your face, capturing the sheen clinging to your lips. An ocean of reasons poured from your lips. Guided by your voice, they floated out to my metaphoric i...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Here is what has happened since you walked out the door, literally, not figuratively, no more than thirty minutes ago. A bunny in the backyard stared at me with such intensity, I felt I had done something wrong. The power flickered, trying to decide if its existence was worth living. U...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A reminder to those who are still awake: The night will always long to crawl into your bed. She is a generous lover, but let this resonate inside your sleepy head: If you let the nighttime hold you tight, she’ll spend every moment whispering your ear the reasons you cannot fall asle...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am a quick learn. Cut me open, and my knowledge will pour onto your favorite shoe. My teacher, the one who cares outside of class, is not a person, but instead he is experience. “Write down your thoughts.” he advises me gently. “because there is no guarantee anyone besides you...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Mondays, I read. I read books, body language, thoughts, and people. Tuesdays, I do not read a thing. Often, I wonder where the world has gone. Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, I am a whirlwind who tries to take over the world from the comfort of her bathtub. The weekend builds...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I cannot sleep. Not because of the splattering rain that joyously throws its entire being against my window. Not because of the heavy comforter pinning my body to this heirloom/hand me down mattress. Not because of the speed at which my brain tries to lurch right out of my paper- m...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I’ll write for one more minute, if only to feel accomplished. If only to feel that I will not be forgotten among the ocean of potential that lunges for my throat....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I think of you as I think of the sun: In the summer, you are plastered to my skin. (I cannot shake you) The winter is when you’re gone, but the winter is when I can swallow the revitalizing air without having it stolen from my lips. (The cold settles in my stomach and makes me rave...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She slips raspberries onto her fingertips and calls herself a princess. All I want is for her to melt in my mouth, to leave my sternum cold as she flows down. She sucks on her new jewelry and asks me if I’d elect her to be my queen. I tell her that queens are not elected by citizen...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I know you much rather prefer the company of books and nostalgia and old souls. On the outside, I am all New Age and shiny metal and technology without a manual. Do you ever think, as I find myself doing when I ride the train and walk through walls and find you in the musty treehouse...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Please. No. Please, no no no.  ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The way my father’s fingers rise and fall with the grave of a bobbing sun as he crafts a pie crust that will soon fall apart; the singular purple stroke dripping with pride that she spends 257 breaths dusting across the canvas; your words, expertly cut from sapphires with subtle edg...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Write about what you know: Kindergarten. The feeling of anticipation that shot through your crayon-clutching fingers as you waited for the teacher who was pregnant, huge, eclipsing the sun, and already had two kids (what did she need Another one for?) to dole out your hard-earned grah...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I write about a lot of things. I write about being me: being anxious, being frustrated, being small, being awed, being lightning, being found. I write about cities I wish to peel back & crawl under, cozy beneath the layers of history and concrete. I write about looking for love, f...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Summers clear as the water we forged through have rushed on by, chasing after the graffiti at the end of the sewer or drainpipe or entrance into another world. They have left me shrivelled, dry, and compelled to ask what a child wants to know: Do you remember our summers? The ones that...

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