Standing with a guitar at the end of the intersection, the sweat poured down his face like a river. Tobacco-stained fingers and a faded ball cap, he played the beaten instrument like it was the last days of his life. Strum. Take a breath. It was becoming harder and harder to show up. Hated by his father, unwanted by his mother, he played for love. He played for money, too, but what did that money ...

Like a rose, thorn and petal. Or a knife, handle and blade, Adeline was a paradigm. So when she walked into the warehouse, soaked to the bone from rain and watery blood dripping off a glass photo, Grae should've known she'd done something drastic.

The gun he'd swung to the door froze in his hand. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at the photograph. The frame's edges were cracked, one ...

Weak. Prey. Woman. That is how they see me. To be stalked, to be silent, to be torn.

Unable to fight back, these words belong to each other. Unable to be separated, these words define me.

They are unacceptable.

Why should I be seen as prey when the predator is the one who defines the word?

I don’t see myself as much of a feminist, but you called me prey. You said, Anytime you're alone, you're...

Once, there was a healer. And he had a garden. In this garden grew all he needed for his medicines and his salves and teas to heal people. The healer took great care of his garden, tending to it every day and harvesting and drying with precision everything he needed. His harvest and his business was bountiful and thriving, people would come from all over to see him and get well. But one day, the h...

I'm tired. So tired. My eyelids dip as they track the vibrant moving pictures on my screen. One after the other, after the other. Styles flip in front of my face like a zoetrope, everything blurring together. Soft girl aesthetic wait no dark academia wait no light academ - wait no, soft academia travel girl she's so coquette she's not even real. Here's my top twenty pieces of advice if you're in y...

“You couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat.”

The woman in front of me tries once again to hit the dart board on the wall. I watch as the dart sails through the air, spins lazily, and plants itself into the wall three feet to the left of the target with a dull thunk.

She sighs and plants her hands on her hips, spinning around to face me. Her hair is yanked into a ponytail so tight her eyeb...

I cannot speak. Was never taught how to write. I sew. I embroider. My emotions conveyed through the pictures I stitch, worn by the elite as pretty things. I pour my magic through my hands, a field beginning to form, a fox hiding behind a tree looking out towards the meadow. On another swath of fabric, colors of blue and orange and red dip down before swirling up in a wave, covering the bottom hem ...

I was born from the dirt. The roots converged, the soil rose up, and the vines entangled to form who you are hearing speak now.

I was born from the grit of the sweat that fell from the toil of the laborers of the ground I came from; The curses and blood that dropped and absorbed into the loam. I was pushed up with the clay and baked and hardened by the sun. What am I? Do you know?

...

Paper pirates On their paper boats Flying through the sky.

The stars like lemons, Bright and yellow, Smiling back at me.

I wander past the paper pirates, Tears, Dripping down their faces.

The paper torn, Weathered, Worn Days past their laces.

I come swiftly, Death on knell, Ringing past the lemons.

They crumple quickly, These paper pirates —

Tears Softening them To go...

My husband was staring at me from the bottom of the stairs. The look on his face unsettled me and made me pause before I listened to him. He wanted to show me something. We had just moved into a new house. It was a big Victorian-style mansion, dark and gloomy on the outside but with big windows that set the whole inside aflame with sunlight. It was, to say the least, the most beautiful house I had...