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I'm not, but I look taller. And I'm not blonde anymore because I never actually was. When I see her in pictures I do not recognize her even though I know her so deeply. I know her in patterns and seasons and context that she does not yet. I love her for every reason I… Continue reading A short story
Carve into asphalt ruts again, know them better than my own skin. Immediately I am seventeen on another midnight drive home; my headlights make all the same old shadows. Pink Bullets in my mind, but Pine Hill puts the hole in my chest. I hope you still love that remodeled A-frame, your dream that came… Continue reading I Was Walking With a Ghost
Probably about half is missing– large parts of what makes a person, torn off, bloodied and ragged, or atrophied – what would've otherwise formed, but it was the survival years. Everything is stitched up, the damage contained in real time. It does not look nice, but she was a toddler learning to sew and forgetting… Continue reading My best work
melissa 