We come together like the teeth of a zipper Interlocking, holding together tight Not identical but aligning There’s nothing more frustrating than breaking a zipper The teeth seem to forget that they ever attached to each other Leaving backpacks and dresses wide open When they should be held together tight This post is part…
You love the people that love you But you let them speak without love Let them act without love Let them think without love And now it’s Another night feeling like the worst one. You don’t remember what good nights feel like You don’t remember what it’s like to go to sleep with dry eyes…
She had a system. Spend the whole first date hiding behind her phone; if that didn’t faze her potential suitor, he could handle her other terrible habits and her social anxiety and her strange particularities. She called it the screening. If he passed, he deserved her. This post is part of the A-Z Challenge.…
Where did you grow up? What’s your favorite baseball team? How old were you when you had your first kiss? Which colleges did you apply to? What’s your takeout order? Why did you hate your sister? How are you resolving that now? What’s your dream job? Why do you think you tackle life better alone?…
We sit in his childhood bed with the lights off. “We break up, we get married, or we die, okay?” I reply. “That’s how all relationships end. So if we break up, well, at least that’s better than death.” He sighs. “Kind of morbid, don’t you think?” “No,” I say. “Kind of optimistic.” This post…
Even once you think you’ve finally moved on, I’ll still find you in the most unexpected places. My favorite book will appear on your shelf. My fingerprints will decorate the condensation on your water glass. Every newscaster will say her vowels like I do. You’ll find my smile tucked behind the mirror and my too-dark…
She fingered the hay bale that served as a makeshift church pew for his farm wedding. Every detail was taken directly from Pinterest—just what they had both sworn to hate, but now he was vowing to love until death do them part. Welcome to Microvember, my take on NaBloPoMo. Each day this month I’ll be posting…
I remember the hydrangea bush in the backyard, a source for many pretend-wedding bouquets. I remember the sleeve of stale saltines. I remember choking on irony and tragedy as the vet told me she’d finally feel relief right before she died. I remember the ungodly amounts of scotch tape my grandmother used to adhere red…
He wasn’t a reader, but he promised to read my favorite book, knowing how desperately I wanted him to love words the way I do. He started reading in June. Two months later I boarded the plane to New York with a memory on replay: running to his car in the rain the night before, only to hear…
When your ex-boyfriend gets a new house, a new car, and a new phone, you’ll find yourself trying to count the things that haven’t changed—his incredible memory, his playfulness, his eyebrow raise, his gentle hands, and his voice—and end up holding out one hand and one fist. When he shuffles you out the door before 11…
Victim to Charm 