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Prose and Poetry
Columbus, United States
Prose and Poetry
All Time Popular
The bitterness of my tea washes away the melancholy lingering on my tongue
the light of God in him
my distance and my breath layering within his, yes. His eyes that shout with question marks, yes.
Who am I if…
Who am I without my arrogance and without my shame, and without the continuous search for my place in society?
Ode to Honey
I like pouring honey into my morning tea. / Honey, stretching out languidly / After a relaxing evening in its pitcher. / Honey, sparkling …
From the corner of my eye, / I saw blue. / The color molded into the shape of a classic car, / Bright and vintage, / And my eyes flicked t…
They make a racket and stomp their sharp feet and open their round mouths and as they raise up act after act
Really, I’m about as unfathomable as a glass of water.
…opened the impossible lock, brushed cigarette ashes that had escaped his handcrafted cigarette off of the wood, and lifted the lid t…
The letter X
exclamations of sexy exasperation, / excellence, / explicit exploration.
“You’re very pretty”, he whispers to me, his mouth inches from mine. / What does that mean? I wonder. / He spoke that same sentence to my …
I thought you had killed yourself
I thought you had killed yourself, you know. I woke up from a fitful sleep and I spent a few fitful hours in a conscious, jarring fear. I’v…
I’ll blame it all on menopause because illusions are safer than reality.
I am alone, cowering, but still facing everything, and eventually overcoming (I simply moved myself to a different table and indulged in a …
I am not a tortured artist
I am not a tortured artist. / I didn’t endure some horrible, life-altering, childhood tragedy. / I don’t have a disfiguring scar that den…
all in a haste, all too busy to excuse themselves, some carrying shopping bags, some carrying cardboard signs, some carrying cameras, all c…
Through the child’s perspective that this book offers, I suddenly see the hope that was invisible just a little while before, and I take a …
but meaning will sneak into the car with them, into their “empty” relationships, into their loud thoughts and quiet concience.
Then they threw it in a closet with a keyless lock, knowing I would spend an eternity torturing myself over the cliched “so-near-yet-…
I could list millions of qualities that make you so wonderful, but then you probably wouldn’t read this entire letter, seeing as it takes y…
Dear _____ (III)
By the time you get this (if you ever get this), I hope we are still talking. I’m sure I’ll still love you.
Dear _____ (II)
Every touch, every hug, every kiss, every glance, every text message, every dream, every word that comes from you sets my entire being on f…
but your kisses shook the foundations of all my barriers. My walls, the ones I spent years building, crumbled in a matter of seconds.
A train roars just a couple of mil es away / And the tracks rattle. / Somewhere, a blade of grass bends under / the persistant wind.
It’s hot and humid, the air is stale and heavy. The sweet perfume of spring has faded and the breezes are left naked. Yet the birds are sti…
Even the perfect August tomato, stretching its deep red skin, leaving a tangy tingle on my tongue and slightly stinging my sun-chapped lip…
I stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror and hated it. And I thought about my desire to love what I saw, and I thought about the hopel…
His white, snowy hair reflected the yellow light, his tired eyes moved back and forth, following the sentences slowly.
From Up High
The sun will beat down, the trees will look down, the buildings will fall down, and I will be amongst it all, my eyes straining and trained…
This loneliness likes to stay up late with me, waiting for me to tread the drowsy steps of one who is young and tired, waiting to trip me.
There, in the garden, my uncle crooning sweet made-up songs, my grandpa picking ripe apricots, my grandma stroking my hair, I had everythin…
You’re wasting me / My spirit is dwindling / Just leave me / You’re wasting me.
These cancerous words accumulate / And not even the cobwebs can hide them. / They scream into me their agonizing acrimony
It’s nothing but that little ache I get when I look at the mirror and stare down my loneliness.
Daddy Who Never Smiles
A rare twinkle in his crinkled brown eyes that gets eaten up in an instant by dimness, like clouds that swallow the sun.
A Closer Look
Prose and Poetry
United States - USD$