"You know what I love about rain? she asked. No, what is it? he replied....
“You know what I love about rain? she asked. No, what is it? he replied. Well, she responded, It can break windows yet caress someone’s face as softly as a lover’s hand.” - Fragment 93
View Articlehit and run
Climbing the stairs to your room was like struggling to find airwhile drowning. I remember the way your thighs openedon the bed all those years ago, your hips rising up to meet mine,the way the dark...
View Articlethe depressive myth
Depression turns people into ghosts. They can’t get up, they can’t get dressed, maybe on the good days they can drag themselves out of bed and down to the kitchen to make some pancakes or bacon, but...
View ArticleHi, I think you may have posted a quote the other day but I can't find it on...
We Were Emergencies by Buddy Wakefield :)
View Articlehi, what are some other amazing writing blogs off the top of your head that I...
commoventefleurishesletters-to-nobodypavorstimplexamoderateclimateslauravanslykepoetrywarsanshirethedustdancestoosleepingpoppyswildflowerveinsarpistatopographeboycloudssoggypoetrytypewriterdailytwelveo...
View Article"I tell my mother I’ve won the Nobel Prize. Again? she says. Which discipline...
“I tell my mother I’ve won the Nobel Prize.Again? she says. Which discipline this time?It’s a little game we play: I pretendI’m somebody, she pretends she isn’t dead.” - The Committee Weighs In, Andrea...
View Article"How do I translate this pain into words? she cried. You can’t, he said. Some...
“How do I translate this pain into words? she cried. You can’t, he said. Some feelings just don’t have a language.” - Fragment 94
View Articlesoul-searching
I was the child who always stuck her fingers in socketsjust to see if they would send some kind of electric shockto her dead heart. And I was the one who woke upin a hospital room with the brother who...
View ArticleWhen There Just Isn't A Blue That Will Match
My father’s sadness came in so many different colorsthat we were never sure whether he was cerulean, or just blue.I’ve been thinking about how your thighs opened in the bathtubthe first time we were...
View ArticlePlease could you post some/link me to some writing about miscarriage if it's...
I am so very sorry, my love. So very sorry. xxhttp://writingsforwinter.tumblr.com/post/36264240701/baby-teeth
View ArticleWhat writings do you have about same sex couples?
http://writingsforwinter.tumblr.com/post/38302986749/just-curious-he-said-but-whos-going-to-be-athttp://writingsforwinter.tumblr.com/post/39013623786/same-sex-marriageThere are a few more but I can’t...
View Article"I wake up in the morning and can’t get out of bed. I eat cereal without milk...
“I wake up in the morning and can’t get out of bed. I eat cereal without milk and make promises that I can’t keep. On Saturdays I make snow angels outside by myself and weep at the emptiness they...
View Articlewhatever happened to Danielle
You prefer to eat Chinese food with your fingers and tell me in between bitesabout your cousin Danielle who wanted her parents to love her so badthat she carved the phrase “Living evidence”into her own...
View ArticleI think i want to create a separate writing/poetry blog, but I'm afraid I...
There are many easily readable themes out there that you can use. sleepythemes is where I’ve often gotten my themes from; the one I have right now is actually from there. aretterthemes, lostemas, and...
View ArticleHidden in your aorta is a way for me to win you back.
soggypoetry:When my mother warned me about the boys who parked their cars in our driveway, I could see, in the fine lines surrounding her eyes,the ones she could still love if it was not for the years...
View ArticleTeething (collab)
On Christmas last year my brother strung upall his baby teeth on the tree instead of lights,their edges shining in the luminescence of the moon.And there was a kind of sadness in that,all those tiny...
View Article"What do you do in your spare time? he asked. And the second boy replied, I...
“What do you do in your spare time? he asked. And the second boy replied, I write poems about second chances and try not to hate myself too much.” - Fragment 96
View Article"Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them;...
“Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them; things they can’t forget; stories they carry in their bodies waiting to be released” - Natalie Goldberg
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