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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    this is how i call my lost love poems: the scent of dust after rain you cradle thunder in your collarbone and it crashes in your voice, your hands trembling with bones shaped like lightning. your lips don’t tremble, already drowned by the storm that has moved to your fingers. the skin ove...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i didn’t say a word when my mother died. words fell softly on sheets in a voice like hospital whispers, graveyard shift gossip, the patter of eyelids drooping and bursting open before the nurses went home. we didn’t go home. the nurses folded words into bleached sheets before they went hom...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    grief feels like chapped lips and bare legs in weak texas winters, trembling, secondhand tea that doesn’t warm your hands. i will not feel these months anymore. i am buying coats. here is the sharpness of spearmint in the cracks of my lips, exhaust fumes in dry eyes. it’s been a long t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    and i think i found your name in one, two syllables in a landslide of symptoms: if you are experiencing these, take one tablet. place it under your tongue, and let it dissolve. i learned when i was young that heartbreak was forlorn, a rag worn down from soap and scrubbing so i could feel t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    once fire spilled over my skin shaking over ribs to hold burning iron in the shape of my sin slipping under my breastbone, thin teeth carving bite-mark confessions that fell cold once fire spilled over my skin scarred with shrapnel from a heart of tin burst between bone, a constellation b...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    war-child never stopped shaking, thought her eyes were exit wounds, thought her voice sounded like shell casings clinking in the bunkers like pennies on the sidewalk like wishes in the well. she was a penny on the sidewalk, some shiny piece of luck picked up searching for peace in the ruin...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    my mother thinks i’m a w**** because i loan my love out to boys who would rather buy than borrow. i trapped my heart in a jar to watch its flutter in formaldehyde, the small breaths it takes (inhaling at tricuspid, exhaling at pulmonary) i took it down to show you how it sputtered at the...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Aphrodite, listen: i was too young and small to give blood. my veins rolled away from the shadow of a needle ticking under my skin, metronomically, counting the time till i would be old enough to bleed. remember how i bled the first time? so much later than the rest. i don’t bleed enoug...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    as if its chambers were lockets hinged at mouths, each beat impulsively popping open the walls of my mosaic heart, my muscle strung together with stolen silver chains and tarnished clasps, the dented heart with a sun-bleached photograph inside and the pockmarks where gems chipped off. i sai...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    one july, twenty strangers kept a tally of attempted kisses on their fingers, asking where we had been and where we were going with pink lemonade & vodka breath. teenagers drop fingers like plucked petals, the ones scattered on my porch after i stripped my mother's roses in february look...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    once, i was the first to touch snow. my fingers contaminating a city of ivory with color blossoming from my fist. crescents of frost formed under my fingernails as i crept from slumbering houses, pulling myself into moonlight. snowflakes dripped from bottom lashes, bleeding over my skin u...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    this galaxy traveled two million years to reach us as a blur pulsing against night's neck, faint blue where blood flows as history at the seams of our sky. this is the farthest we can see with the naked eye, and i see its light freezing in the air with our breath lost among bright and ic...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    last night i counted knuckles like rosary beads: who art in heaven? not us who trespass again and again, tiptoeing across our tongues and sleeping in beds of steel wool warm clenched tightly, my jaw in a praying hand, striking flint and steel flint and steel. now and at the hour before cl...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    she is an archive, the transcription of forgotten tales in brittle paper lungs guarded with a double-edged tongue. silence is exposure, the stripping of thread and unraveling herself and we turn her into the glare of morning, tell her not to move: let us pick you apart and study the stories ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i wrote a poem for you on my wrists, imagining my veins blooming through skin and tangling with your arteries: holding hands long distance. a stranger told me to scrub away all my tacky words because it isn’t good for girls to mark their arms in the name of something short of love. i repli...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    once i whispered you a promise of perfect memory; you scrawled it in the desert sand, let the wind take the words from my lips and told me i could not outrun my mortality. i remember this in place of your face, a broken piece of us, and i wish on every star you have forgotten our ending. off...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i could go for a cup of forgiveness tonight, but i suppose i'll go hungry instead; nothing else will do. i'm sorry i was cussing at you, momma all the other words sputtered out of my mouth and my brakes were worn to nothing. besides, good girls always answer, and i don't know what's wrong ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    we live in a world jostling syllables trying to uncover a word among the cacophony caw-calling around our heads drowned in white noise bouncing against itself and each other like my hipbone bumping my femur my tibia fibula to an aftershock left in my footprint unfit to mar beaches and snow...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    the distance of so many miles could burn away at both ends with only the spark of a star—plucked, the shiver of a violin string, cold as we are in not-quite-tomorrow. instead letters decompose on my shy tongue, taste bloody-iron and dry ashen crawling black form begging to be buried alongsi...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    hey stranger, there are stranger things than me. don’t you know skin is just packaging? and sometimes it gets scraped and scratched and creased when it’s passing through all those hands in the mail, but still i want to get where i’m going. i’m not damaged goods....
  • Fiction > Action-Adventure
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    I didn't snap. It was much more gradual than that. It was like slipping off a cliff, fingers scraping the edge, until in one moment that seemed like an echo of something that never existed I was falling. When I went to bed last night, I was still hanging on; when I woke up, I was crashing. I don't k...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    I can’t keep living like this. And it’s not your fault—it’s mine. I’m living for you when I should be living for myself, for evenings with friends and holidays with family. Because there isn’t a we. I have to live my own life. And it isn’t you. I’ve been living in a fantasy, that...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    some days i want to stuff my heart in a jar and run away somewhere i can sing badly in the early morning, take hours for showers and break plates just to see how they crack. i want to write poetry about it in loud letters on the walls because now i'm just sleep-talking and it isn't...
  • Art /
    Photo > Other Images
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  • Art /
    Photo > Other Images

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