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Weekly Contest #154
I hold my hands of ice in a cross over my right knee, my ankles wrapped around each other under the café table. The pink frou-frou of my dress clutching to the back of my calves and tangling around my ankles and long socks, the white delicacies adorning my underskirt intwined with the full-bodied fabric, and a simple hat atop my head with a single pale-yellow feather sticking out the top. My coiffed hair coiled beneath perfectly and my face not revealing a single stitch of emotion, buried so deep past my tight skin and open lips. A real-life...
Weekly Contest #63
i go apple picking. he drives. because he always drives. i know the way that he drives as well as i know the roads behind my childhood home. the winding, long winded roads built for speed and sad songs that play on loop. the roads that i have spilled my heart to too many nights because they listen and learn the repetition of my shredded tires. the roads that memorized my first car crash, which stained their gravel with shrapnel and my parents’ hearts with disappointment. yes, these roads have known my patterns, my abrupt steering, my swift ...
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