Tag: Ayasha Cantey
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“Duplex II” – by Miriam DaPonte
Beauty has the power to make us feel loved. There’s no beauty in a dissatisfied heart. There’s no beauty in our dissatisfied hearts, We lived love as if it was overpriced,Yet we lived, and to love we owe the price.I think the world is in need of more beauty.I think of people in need of…
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“Duplex I” – by Miriam DaPonte
It takes time to see who stands in the mirror. My ex-lover knows this heart is cold. My next lover will know my heart is cold. A voice mutters, “It’s not my fault.”Their voices mutter, “It’s all her fault.”No sword, they put up walls for shields.Pride and pity as my sword and shield,I go on…
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My Skin – By Wren Campise
My skin is so pale that it’s see-through, a translucent curtain.The people observe my bones, how they clank and crackle and pop. They look at them like they want them to break and snap like the raw carrots they ate as a child. Breaking those carrots makes them manageable. If they finish them off, they…
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Where to Gogh from Here – By Bryce Gensinger
I envision the blank pale black sky lit up with the dancing of thousands of…No that’snot right. In the dark abyss of unknowing that is our heavens there are twinkles of millions…No, something is off about this. Why can’t I think straight? Is it because my face isunbalanced and is messing with my train of…
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A Letter Back – By Mollie Lewis
When I was a freshman in highschool I wrote myself a letter to open four years later. My senior year I opened the envelope feeling like so much had changed… without anything really changing at all. I was older, and I’d be graduating soon. But I felt the same. I had the same friends and…
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I Love You So Much, It Hurts – By Kaylee Shindel
My mother is a Pharmaceutical representative. She sells all kinds of medications. Some for allergies. Some pain killers, those ones could make your head spin. She is your average tooth fairy. She drops in when you need her. She takes your boo boo’s and bandages them. She drops a reward on your pillow. She wears…
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Migraine – By R.J. Railton-Jones
I walk into my egg yolk yellow bathroom. The colors melt off the walls as butter. Sizzle against my retinas. Blinking doesn’t keep it at bay for long. The lights above the sink burn into my vision, and everywhere I look there are bright blue imprints.Two sluggish orbs within my head struggle to keep up…
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Thanksgiving After – By Kelsey Donnelly
I miss your hands. Your fingers, though gnarled and twisted with arthritis, were always soft.Gentle. Mothering hands, grandmothering hands.They taught me how to whisk. Held my hand around measuring cups and sifted flour out of the bag.Those hands, scarred, were capable only of love.They held a potato in one and an old-fashioned peeler in the…
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“The Caretaker and the Child” – By Camille Vail
“Darian, where did you go?” The young girl maneuvered her wheelchair through the aisles of the library room, irritation staining her pale features. The spring sun danced across the floor, cut into beams of light through the slats of oak bookshelves. The girl squinted as sun hit her eyes, about to call once again when…
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“A Thursday Night in January” – By Megan Agrillo
Ricky Myers stood leaning against his bathroom doorframe as he watched water from the sink faucet drip into the toothpaste-spotted basin in slow, precise drops. It had been dripping like that for a week now, not that he cared. His bare shoulder ached from the awkward positioning of his body. He realized he had been…
