Christeen Thornton

She finds it hard to resist
the itch,
just twist,
this shit,
this shit that makes her twitch like this.

It’s it,
That’s this,
She’ll always miss,
Conversations getting longer she…

What if I were to tell you that this reality is merely smoke and mirrors, a cruel trick played by Gods and Demigods?
Would you believe me?

Coffee is bitter. Dark. By that rationale one could suppose that dark is bitter. But add a little cream, watch it swirl around the dark, bubble up to the surface, become one with it, and sudden…

She sat alone on the busy subway car. A scowl lost among a sea of faces. A life lost among a horde of lives. A voice lost among a symphony of sounds. She watched those sitting closest to her, a…

This is my favourite piece of work. I wrote it on a napkin, and then rewrote it later that same day.
____________
The slowly spreading smile on…

This poem was written for my women’s literature class. It was in response to an article we read about death sentencing in US prisons. It’s rather dark, but I quite like it. But I’m biased as it…