Leftovers by Alexandra Englehart
His crème brûlée is starting to grow mold, Cream and yolk separating Like he and I on the sidewalk that night, Slowly but steadfast, No chance of reconnecting. Our jambalaya
Author: pwatem
Toast by Alexandra Englehart
I want you to feel me in your veins like fire: darkening, hardening, burning. I want to melt over you, under you, inside you like butter. Lay me down, spread
untitled by Vincent Mangano
before I met him I flicked a lighter down and down again on its mocking red button and turned my hands into first degree burns trying to light my citronellas.
Satellite By Devany Solanki
You screamed the captain died You cheery messenger Of a depression-drugged paper What else must you preach about this life That heroes decline That a kitten survived That we are