Flaw Salad

I couldn’t tell you why I like hillside graveyards so much, or the aesthetics of a too-large cross imposing itself on the landscape below, but I find myself drawn, from a deep and primal place, to the hopeful symbols, the pleas to something above to please exist, please save us. That he could glance and… — read more

I sit here bathed in sunlight, and my mind is filled with you. Your long strong legs and the way they climbed between mine. The weight of you over me. Your lips. My god, your voice. That low rumble in my ear. Your whispered words on that final night. Our closeness in that darkened room. You surrounded… — read more

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