Mother Nature, Me, and The Shared Art of Wallowing in HeartbreakBy: Francesca Ott-McKay Their yearning echoes, Lonesome cries heard through the trees. Soft, star-crossed bellbirds. Tears spill down moist skin
I think it’s beautiful T.W: Sexual Context Strap me down, my bones are bound, I cannot move, I love to drown. One comes off, another falls. He loves to see
Continue reading…I think it’s beautiful. By Soledad Dagmar Green
Dichotomies The Sun accosts still, heat like an open oven. Yet, the air grows cold.
Jasmine Red crook of green vine, bespeak the blushing bride, steeped in pots of sugar
My mother is yawning in her sleep. Eyelids heavy, with Heaven’s gates. Maybe, he’d let her sleep longer. She was safer within these walls. Smooth his own wrinkles, Before waking