Posthumous.

Some love was made for the light Ours was made for falling asleep on secret phone calls and chasing the high too far, too quickly. It was made for throwing each other to the wolves only to save each other and blame serendipity. It was made for painting picket fences black and smashing mirrors so… Read More Posthumous.

Echo.

You know how the longer you look at a word, the more the spelling looks incorrect? Like, somehow, the letters switch around and look awkward in their places. You question the original spelling. Is this how it’s supposed to be written? You consult a friend. Do you think this looks right to you? You may… Read More Echo.

30.

The color of my summer dress has faded I didn’t even notice it was on fire Dirty hands, shaking Bare feet on Kentucky bluegrass I am the sound that crashing cars make A screeching, a grinding, a lost collection of conflicting motions The flame burning golden now Finally aware of the melting skin I rub… Read More 30.

History.

The scarlet letter on my chest sinking in beneath my skin That’s where I like you best A ghost of a boy in my eyes If I’m gone, who will keep me in your mind? History of the worst kind I pretend I can’t see through your thin disguise I should have cherished you Kept… Read More History.