Sun-Reflector

Sun-Reflector

Artist, noun: A soul that doesn’t believe it’s made of stardust, and so it searches for a home in every crease of a fingerprint, smudged between strokes of brush buildings and canvas walls. A soul that wields light and dark as if their veins run with paint; also known...
Silent Aches

Silent Aches

I have always been able to describe the ache— the ache in my shoulders from sitting too long, the ache in my eyes from crying too much, the ache in my heart from missing you, the ache in my hands from holding the cry of my knotted heart. An ache to create, to reflect...
Hidden Words

Hidden Words

The best-hidden words are the most sought for: elusive phrases hiding under tongues and peering from eyes; retreating to throats and dancing through minds; creatures so passionate and yet so timid; unwilling to leave the safety of the heart and strong enough to burn...
Handprint Heart

Handprint Heart

There are handprints on my heartbeat,a few smudges on my veinsfrom all the people who have touchedmy life and left their stains.Some marks have taught me kindness,and some scars have taught me love.Some have shown me all the thingsI want to free my heart of.The...
Winter Song

Winter Song

To open a window in December is to hear the winter sing. The sky sends down its frosted bells to coat the cooling ground, and I watch in fern-green envy as it gently drifts to sleep. The world is a candied heartbeat, swelling with holiday spirit at the rise of every...
Moonlit Poetry

Moonlit Poetry

Why do you hide so often? Are you shy? You glow too brightly for that. You look lonely. You also look whole. How do you manage that? I want to understand you, but you keep a part of yourself hidden away. I want to know why you see yourself as so mysterious that you...
This Text Is Black

This Text Is Black

This text is black. “Like my soul,” says my generation, stringing up skeletons and spiderwebs and painting their walls and wardrobes to match. I watch the murky words fade into dull ears, and the reality of evil creates a cloudy ache in my chest. Colors are not tools...
A Surge of Senses

A Surge of Senses

We strung up lights and put stars in the sky, and she held me as we danced over rain-kissed earth. I listened as the voices that calmed me most sang our favorite lines in breathless whispers. We ran into wet grass with fingers intertwined, and the sky’s contented...

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