generally
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
two sad, brown eyes dark and deep and rimmed with memories I do not contain. it's always you I see in them, so I never looked for long, never asked for them anyway, never chose them for myself, until today– I never have to love you, but I have got to learn to love the… Continue reading It’s Hard to See Him
small is the one crafted in unlove pockets filled with empty to contain the fewest needs to earn the air and space that you breathe and take to earn some right to life to offset the creators' regret but your debt only ever grows so pockets filled with empty the one crafted in unlove is… Continue reading It’s Hard to See Her
melissa 