You are a Museum, Not Gift Shop

  Dear Heart, The harsh reality is that You can’t stop people from taking advantage of the courageous love You have to offer. These people are selfish – maybe they don’t intend to be, but they are. They see something in You that they want so, they begin their work to take it and do…

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Wild Flowers in a White Paper Cup

Love came when I was too young and you were too old. Knowing glances, stolen kisses , and sweet talk kindled a fire that would not die but could not burn bright. Still, we had a glimpse into the well.   In the morning, you brought wild flowers in a white paper cup and placed…

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N

I’m mad at you for thinking that you never broke my heart. Every time you weren’t excited for me broke my heart. Every time you weren’t proud of me made loving you painful. When I fought for more and you shut me down, it made me love myself less. I wanted to love through and…

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I Promise

    And the night is sometimes like this, cloudless, barren and naked, same as a nervous girl disrobing for a boy the first time. Look, even the stars are too shy to show themselves tonight. Somewhere an owl is watching, pensive and patient, but what use is that? Or the temperamental moon, nodding its…

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Manitoba Rituals

It was a winter of muted wolves and colorless owls without voice. We spent those first few months together in an apartment with occasional heat, sporadic electricity. Puddles of wax appeared in dark corners; sometimes we burned the books we’d just read. No one else will share the story of the squirrel frozen to the…

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Blood on His Tie

Her dad was a gentle soul. He would come home from his quiet office to a rowdy house of girls. He had the same routine every night, and he never looked tired. He always hugged each of his three daughters as he made his way to the fridge. Then he opened a beer, turned on…

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This Much I Know

I cannot say I know very much when it comes to love. Only what I have gleaned from those around me. In the faces and hands of random strangers, Tucked away in hidden corners, Of cafes, bookstores and libraries.

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Hidden

Loving you sucks. You don’t try to get better, because you love being sick. It gives you an alibi, a reason, an excuse. Your imagined diagnosis gives you comfort. You warm yourself with it at night and curl up by it on cold days. It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. You’re broken and anything you do will automatically be forgiven…

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The Looking-Glass

Our eyes meet, and my heart burns itself to ash Growing wide wings of infinite desire and longing for the scent of her hair wafting like an iridescent fog through the darkened forest of my mind. Her smile of blinding star-formed happiness…

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On Fire

I lost a battle in my head when I recounted backwards from ten. I feel like I’m on fire, but not as fiery as the fire that stages its satire in your eyes.
Like a play, I lay around acting it out within my own sense of stay. I need my time, like the fire that satires its burning point of melting in my eyes…

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