I hope you die. That was the last thing you said to me. And then I did. My heart just shriveled up and crumbled like ashes. But unlike the Phoenix or Jesus, it didn’t rise again. Instead, I was pronounced dead and buried a week later. I was buried in the beautiful blue prom dress… Continue reading Last Words.
He stared at me, hidden and protected by all the dropped heads looking at their phones in the crowd. He looked like an officer, but most white men do to me. He had a gun snuggling against his hip though. But he didn’t have a uniform on, just a faded shirt that said FBI: Female… Continue reading Black-handed
I check the posts in the memories section on Facebook every single day, usually right around midnight when they change, just to see how I used to talk, what I used to talk about, and how I have grown over the years. I often find myself annoyed with my old posts from like 2011 and… Continue reading Me vs Me.
He couldn’t see her in the tiny storage closet, but he could smell her. She smelled like home. Not his home, which reeked of greasy pizza boxes and inside-out underwear, but home. She smelled of sweet pea body wash and the mint chocolate-chip gum she always kept a pack of in her purse. That was… Continue reading In a Storage Closet in Paris.
I’m not racist but, who was that lunatic? I should have thrown his hands behind his back and frisked him. But then people would accuse me of racial profiling. There’s been enough war between white cops and the black community. I didn’t want to deal with the heat I would receive for questioning this dangerous… Continue reading Undercover and Armed.
Black. Black. Black. Black. Black. Six bodies of black hanging against the wall. Dirty eye sores in a world of clean skin. Blackness–creeping up on me like a robber under the night sky. I can’t see myself in the whiteboards, because I see all of the black smudges that people have tried to erase. That… Continue reading Black and White.
I remember at one point in time I used to wear tie dye, colorful things, and all the colors of the rainbow. Now I wear mostly black and dark colors. I don’t know if my style has changed, or if my soul has. Does our soul depict our style? Does our age depict our style?… Continue reading Shedding of the Soul
I just found out that the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library hold a WEEKLY, yes weekly, dollar book sale on the steps at the main public library on Wednesdays. I go to their book sale every second Saturday, but they have one every single week! Oh my, my, my, my my. But, it's… Continue reading Adventures of a Bookworm: Humpday Happiness
Frog crouched down behind the couch in the dark apartment, the sunlight that shimmied into the apartment through the small cracks in the blinds illuminated the round, chocolate cake in his hands that’s finished off with cricket and mealworm confetti. His cool, green toes anxiously dug into the cherry-wood floor and fat beads of… Continue reading Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift
It's the second Saturday, and my returning readers probably know where I spent my morning and afternoon– Friends of the San Francisco Public Library's dollar book sale, held every second Saturday of the month! I had such a busy week, with finals and parties and meetings that I planned to sleep until 11:30 then go… Continue reading Adventures of a Bookworm: Building a Library
