There are times when her words felt like going home. A machine gun heart, firing at anything that moves. Walls leaning in to listen. Three.One.Two....
Open wound smiles blister in the winds off of Lake Michigan. Making melodies out of sad song mornings. Her skin, like moth wings fell to pieces amongst my fingertips. The only real conversations took place between her hands and my skin.
Tonight I took it all back, you included. Bomb scares on new blocks, this city shuts down in perfection.
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We will forever be a community of writers asking you to fall in (love) or be taken (hostage.) We only want to make you smile, and encourage you to pick up the pen, or start using those fingers on your keyboard!
