My Poetry

Residency.

He will always be home. The smell of that apple-scented candle lingering through the vents of the house Shoes with muddy tongues lined up by the front door Red, hot stove burners alive on Sunday mornings Scratches and greasy fingerprints cluttering the worn porcelain bowls Battered pillows covered in drool and old make up Wrinkled… Continue reading Residency.

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My Poetry

Do Not Touch.

She can wear what she wants. She can walk down the street naked, and you still would not have the right to violate her. If someone leaves the door to their house open, does that give you the right to walk in? To caress their couches, examine their personal pictures on the wall, sleep in… Continue reading Do Not Touch.

My Poetry, Short Stories

Death and Decaying.

First, she lost the waves of strawberry blonde that ended at her waist. Then she lost her mouthwatering skin, a bright and throbbing red like a bed of ripe and ready strawberries in a strawberry field. She used to have a tasty, round figure that everyone would drool over, but now she’s dry, with off-black… Continue reading Death and Decaying.

My Poetry

Grandma Faye.

She was carried down to the earth on the sun on a summer day in May. And she was carried up to heaven on the moon on a cold, dark, night. She appeared in my dream one night, adorned in a purple dress, eating an orange Creamsicle. She birthed thirteen children, six boys and seven… Continue reading Grandma Faye.

My Poetry

Caffeine

I place one hand firmly around its figure, and the other around the top. I slowly twist on the top and the bottle throbs in my hand as it bubbles and foams up inside.   It softly sizzles and whistles as suds start to crack and pop.   I get the top off and foam… Continue reading Caffeine