Library
I’m a Frozen Pipe
I’ve been torturing myself for months trying to gift-wrap everything I don’t know into prettily packaged words like I'm Maya Angelou. I’d steal her face and wear it as a mask, but if I did, that would be dishonest, and I promised myself I would be honest with you. I’ve decided to step into my skin because the truth is an ugly head with two faces that will charge at you like an angry bull. If the truth doesn’t kill me, my pride will. So, I’ll stop beating around the bush.
I lost my best friend a year ago.
The Pond
The pond sat like a gem in the distance. I have lived here for years but remained regretfully unaware of its presence. Almost as if someone draped my eyes in wool and told me to stay away. But the pond called to me like a siren in the blissful wake of clouds.
23 Chromosomes
Obsession leads to madness, so I only think of you once or twice a year. I don’t mean to sound mean, but it’s the cold hard truth. You’re a leech on my psyche, a fly in my ear. Yet I still want to hold, to love you, but I can’t keep something that was never really mine in the first place. You are a vague memory now, a ghostly recollection of firsthand accounts recounted by Mom. She told me about the dusty holes in the floor where furniture once stood and the stillness of an empty house.