Coffee Shop Confessions In a half-filled coffee shop, he told people who weren't listening that he watched his best friend hang himself seven months ago. And he played a song about it that sounded like the covers he warmed up with as we sipped tea.
Sunday Morning I'm laying on my outdoor sofa reading Sylvia Plath's journals and slowly drinking southern butter pecan coffee, listening to the preacher from my lesbian neighbor's TV and the howling of feral cats in heat and waiting for you to arrive.
Valentine's Day Today I realized that I want you just as much as every other day. I love you just the same. I want to live my #life with you, whether that's cleaning puke out of your beard when you're sick or not being able to remember the details of a couple's lap dance because I was thinking about holding on to your pinky for most of it.
Party Confession Monied homes and people make me uncomfortable.
Snow Suburban Ohio winters were the stuff of my childhood adventures. Snow created a quiet world; my backyard became a blank, moldable canvas of imagination. Now, with my first adult snowfalls in front of me, I smile at the smell of warm cotton breathed into against my face and the gentle flurries floating down to cover the sludge.
