Flaw Salad

We walked in silence for a while. I’d asked something too big, and I cast my eyes groundward as we moved along the sunny street. He seemed so tall beside me, and I couldn’t bear to look at him, to see that forward gaze, that set jaw, that closed-lipped certainty that remained, even after all — read more

It was a love letter of sorts, and I didn’t know until long after he was gone. He wrote to me how we needed sex and violence to remind ourselves we exist, or we might start operating as if we didn’t. He was generous with his prose, offering delicious morsels of reverie and provocation. He — read more

In January, introspection. Retrospection. An ever-churning mush of whys and what ifs. Something about the season or the cold or the unsettling gap between a new year and a new age—the weeks preceding my birthday bubbled with dread and ennui. My fingers typed the words before I understood their message. An invitation. My last love. — read more

I don’t want to be a story you tell as you’re lying in bed with the next girl, and she pulls you close and tries to hug the pain away because you’re wonderful, and she knows it, and she can feel how much you need to be loved, and she wants to fix you, and — read more