Stories

I press dandelions and lavender and carnations  into my diary at the end of the night, a sacred performance of red  roses ironed between school te...

I’m in between the bookshelves labeled: Religious studies and outer space, Sitting at a wooden desk In the basement of the library, Next to a boy w...

Sensitive Spirit I’m thankful to have people who tell me I’m crazy. Is this what you really want? Yes. Really? Yes. Really? Maybe. Exactly my poin...

I write love letters in my head. I debate what words will make your heart beat Harder – “Sincerely”, “love”, “always”, “forever” Me The girl I know...

You waited for me on the edge of the bed I knew it was love and not child’s play.  Kids from the party walked in and out of the bedroom, you protec...

I remember the first time I held a boy's hand. His name was Connor. I was 13. He was chivalrous (in a middle school way, of course) We were walking...

Cigarettes on a Sunday afternoon In the snow On some roof. You teach me to Waltz, and god, I step on your foot.   I didn’t know how lovely it could...