Crystal snow filtered through brown leaves. They stood out starkly against her dark skin. There was no trace of his presence to be found. She lay curled, sheltered by the tree's roots. Her paper-thin clothing did little to fend off the cold. Her rust-colored hair was buried under ash and snow. She was as beautiful as they’d said. The kind of beauty you could write songs about, though most of his songs were about her “fire.” The snow didn’t shift underneath his weight as he cr

"I love you.” Spoken over and over again Till the words feel thin What is love? A question I’ve deemed impossible What is love? Maybe it’s the warm feeling I get when I see him in the hallway Heart racing, hands shaking Maybe it’s the quiet, familiar feeling with my parents Maybe it’s the soul wrenching feeling when they leave Maybe it’s a craving that doesn’t stop Like primal hunger Maybe it’s a knife, dangling above your heart Waiting for the slightest movement O

The other day I was cleaning my room I found old photos of a girl I once knew Her hair was longer and her eyes were sadder But I traced the line of her nose And I traced mine I looked at the crooked teeth That adorned her labored smile And I wondered How is it that she and I are the same person? How is it that she thinks this is her last photo When I sit here and look through twenty taken after? How is it that she wants to die When I have lived a life in the wake of those bl

White. White floors, white baths, white gowns, and white light. The whiteness was blinding. The bathwater had long gone cold, and my lips had turned the color of plums. I knew I wasn’t allowed out yet. The nurses said an hour in the bath everyday was necessary for my healing. I didn’t need healing from him. He took Angela from me. Now I’m here. What I remember most was the blood. The unmistakable spots of red splattered on the floor around the bed where he slept with her. Ju

Mr. and Mrs. Brown were angry, though Mrs. Brown suspected she was far angrier than her husband. Their son had, once again, run off, leaving nothing more than a note. Typical of him, leaving without a word; he should’ve known better by now. Then again, despite their many arguments, Mrs. Brown had always understood that her words did not affect him; he simply didn’t care—he didn’t listen to a single thing she said—and now he was gone. She had supposed it was only a matter of t