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Writing

Poetry Writing

simple little thoughts.

The lawn gnomes had all lost their hats and the one that was my favorite, the one that held a flower, had walked away from our lawn after he pulled me into him on my doorstep after our first date. I pictured the gnome’s little face twisted into contempt as he started at this man who had held my door for me all night and smiled at me as I…

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Poetry Writing

daisy’s last poem

It was with eloquent larceny that he gained my eloquent heart. He snuck inside with pernicious claws, easily removing my brain and beating organs, replacing it with liquid nitrogen and venom. That first kiss felt like riding through a carwash, locked inside a phantasmagoric dishwasher of colors. But all of my paint chipped clean away, leading to a final kiss of lead and decay. via *…

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Poetry Writing

warning

Healthy raspberry scented flames burned through the cathedral of his heart. They whipped out and reverberated down his spinal chord where she had touched him. Her worshipping fingers were brought to justice one by one. With each tentative tip toe of her fingertips down his spine, the flames grew hotter. Wilder. Eager to eat her hands. She had selected this fate, willing to let her fingerprints dissolve for the chance…

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Flash Fiction Writing

self perception and cookie dough

There was an errant spot of ice cream on the tiled kitchen floor from the prior week spent laughing and drinking cheap wine around the kitchen island. They had sat on the floor passing a spoon back and forth, an ordinary couple with ordinary scars and ordinary hearts beating close together. She watched as he raised the spoon to his mouth and a small teardrop of creamy sugar landed between…

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Novel Writing

while I was away

Hello, my lovelies. I haven’t been on here as often lately but I promise there is a very good reason for that. Here, let me show you. I finally finished my novel. Longtime readers of this blog will know that I’ve been working on this bad boy since November 2013 when I challenged myself to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I won, writing 50,000 words that month.…

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Flash Fiction Writing

for the alive

True story. The other morning as I washed the sleep off of my face, I noticed my neck in the mirror. The delicate flesh just above my collar bone was bruised with grip marks like I’d been strangled in the night. Hard. My flesh had bruised like fallen rose petals and I had no idea why. I pictured the walls of my bedroom closing down and growing hands in the…

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Flash Fiction Writing

lay me down tonight in my linen and curls

Last night I plucked the moon from the sky and shoved it straight down my throat. All this time they’ve told us it was made of curdled milk. It was made of sugar cookie dough and crinkled happily down my throat as it made its way down. The sugar dust stayed on my fingers and I sucked it all out from under my nail beds while I thought of you,…

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Flash Fiction Writing

all we can do is keep breathing

There are some words that just sound exactly like what they are. They taste like how they feel when they play across your teeth. Bite. Love. Choke. Breathe. Breathe. I’m the world record champion for holding my breath. I held my breath once for twenty minutes. Then I held it for five months. Then I held it for one year. The ghosts stole my breath and replaced it with shattered…

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Flash Fiction Writing

literally

I’m a fan of hyperbolic language because life is hyperbolic and explosive. I would much rather feel things in constant states of literally and hyperbole than through a veil of unshakable and polarizing apathy. Apathy does not make you impressive and isolation is not something to be proud of. Bleeding is impressive. Feeling pain that will lead to joy is impressive. Feeling joy that will lead to pain, that is…

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Flash Fiction Writing

to build a home

My room was shaped like a physical heart and painted bright red with navy blue trim and a blue door. I had a huge British flag on the wall by my bed, a Sweeney Todd poster, and a map of the underground that I’d use to plan my runaways to England when I couldn’t sleep at night. When I was about 12 I put a picture of Gerard Butler as…

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