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Hateful Heart

By : February 7, 2021 Comments Off
Some people love with hatred in their hearts. When we associate passion with fire, we forget that all flames burn. Pull your fingertips away quickly, but they’re already singed. Yes, she smiled with all her teeth, like a child. But I think she’s lived a thousand lives. And she’s spent every one with her heart turning more twisted. Her eyes glisten like an innocent, but she loves to make you as damned as her. She’ll laugh at you for praying, turn your mother against you, and drop your favorite Christmas ball. She won’t even try to pick up the shattered shards. Because that would risk cutting her fingertips. And she is so fragile to you. So you gather the shards yourself and find the pale blue ornament is nothing but
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Proof-Reading Love

By : January 23, 2021 Comments Off
“Why are there always so many spelling mistakes in those long quotes about love?” she asks, her nose scrunching up. “I guess it’s hard to type when you’re in love,” I say, and look up from my book into her dark eyes. I want to add that it’s hard to breathe when you’re in love. And hard to walk in a straight line and hard to have just one drink when you’re alone and in love. Because every time I’ve been in love I’ve been alone. “But proof-reading is really important,” she says, squirming in the mint green armchair by the window. “Maybe it’s better not to proof-read love,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “You poets always say stuff like that.”  She’s right. But what matters more is
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Autumn

By : January 9, 2021 Comments Off
I met her when her hair was dyed red. She wore a long brown coat and a black scarf. She was autumn in a person, and yet I wondered why she chilled me to my bones. Her kiss was soft but burnt. She tasted like ashes and danced like a blooming phoenix. I still remember her firestorm on the dance floor, and yet I wondered why I still find sparks on the back of my tongue at night. She wouldn’t have known love even if it pleaded with her as much as I did. She told me she dreamed of escape. Escaping her mother. Escaping her boyfriend. Escaping the natural brown of her hair and escaping the way the season in her head wouldn’t change. And yet I wondered why
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Yellow

By : January 4, 2021 Comments Off
Mae’s wife loves yellow roses. In fact, she loves the color yellow in all forms. The sweet scent of honeysuckle blesses her with a yellow glow from strolling through the woods. Mae’s wife talks to herself in the woods. Soon, she’ll talk to herself in the house, too. Every morning she swallows a spoonful of honey. “It’s good for you,” she insists, then giggles like a little girl. Mae buys yellow roses for every vase in the house. Yellow petals fall on pill bottles lined up like a parade. “Flowers are a gift to the home,” Mae says, and paints over the spots in the walls, and puts down rugs to hide the knots in the wooden floors. The smell of roses hugs the home year-round and when yellow flames
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I Went to the Sky and Back

By : December 28, 2020 Comments Off
The Sun and Moon were of the same Heavenly flesh. Cut from each other, weathered lovers sewn together, but ripped apart by the Red Sky’s envy. They walked hot coal clouds, barefoot and bare-hearted. The Sky is a lonely Hell. You can ask anyone who has been there, but no one knows more than the wives of broken  skies, who loved with silk atmospheres for centuries. That was before people came and built The Sky—built to burn. Envy is not green. It’s more red than liberated blood. Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to our weekly newsletter to find out when new stories are published. [hubspot portal="4679048" id="962ea2a6-7b06-442a-90fd-58a7c8a4ecc9" type="form"] Learn how to join our Writers Cohort here. Follow us:
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Heaven’s Hell

By : December 27, 2020 Comments Off
when the moon was separated from the sun her flesh ripped like seams and she bled silver dust onto her lover when the sun turned away from her queen she found the sky is even more empty than hell one womb into two one heart split like an apple, its core something you wouldn't ever want to taste, but its strength lingers on the tongue. Did you enjoy this story? Subscribe to our weekly newsletter to find out when new stories are published. [hubspot portal="4679048" id="962ea2a6-7b06-442a-90fd-58a7c8a4ecc9" type="form"] Learn how to join our Writers Cohort here. Follow us:
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