More Honest Than an “I Love You”

The corn grew dense in the field behind my childhood home. Their rich leaves rustled as I brushed them aside. Where had you gone off to? I looked up at the sun that was then directly overhead.

Earlier that afternoon, I had waited anxiously for the doorbell to ring. Though my mother watched a few of the local children while their parents were busy, you were the only one that was my age. You had blond hair, cut short in a sort of sexless manner. I too once had golden hair, but over the years it darkened into “dirty blond” and finally settling into a rather generic brown with a few rare blond strands.

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Asleep and Undisturbed



In Bloom

In the Foreground

Our Target



September Ashes

The Circuit is Completed

The Corners of Your Mouth

The Danger of Sharp Edges

The River

The Debt Incurred

The Scent of Rain

The Victim

The Voices

Tinted Mirror

Words Unsaid