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anna-skinner
What if we as women quit the “what if’s” and “but when’s” and “except he’s” and left him the first time we felt a rock drop in our bellies? I whipped the trash bag into its receptacle today, worthlessness disguised as anger, and reapplied my make up three times because being late is the same as saying you don’t want me Or I’m not good enough to race against the type of woman you’re used to. I think of the ways I used to shame myself when this happened before, when a boy I loved didn’t mind enough to love me back the same way, or at all, but this time, I don’t reach for a blade I sip a drink -- a daughter takes after her father. I use essential oils with scents of emotions I pray to feel -- scents like “uplifting” and “serene” and “relax” Is there an essential oil the flavor of ****** off”? Because that seems to be the only way I feel lately – roiling and ready for a fight, jaw clenched tight against the taste of your name.
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Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC
red wine on the carpet and my heart in the trash
bodies familiar in the hues of a dying day in the shadows, in the shade blacks and grays, indigos and jades whispers muted in the last gasps of light our language, words knit into the night our vision, monochromatic -- your breaths, the moon, my static
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Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
Indigo and Jade
october 6, 2018 was a day for wearing white, supposed to be his bride instead, I’m alone in a new home, watching an Indian summer go by – robin’s egg skies, and emerald hills i wish it was raining instead october sixth was supposed to be navy and cream, stargazer lilies, and a backyard wedding in southern indiana woods where leaves the color of blood, wept with all our loved ones paving the way of our future a prologue: dates to the theater, foamy beer, sticky dance floors, loud words and hate, a home together, destined to fall and the secrets stuck like dust sometimes, the devil hides behind the shadows of love now, i wake up alone, in my new home to the songs of doves, the morning is for mourning, i like to think they’re singing for me i cradle the mug in my hands, listen to the birds and the words, a song i wrote and sing to myself, the chorus, it goes like this: “you’re safe now”
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Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 6:51 PM UTC
when the devil asked for my hand
i know every corner in this place -- from house-made mocha the pastel pastries and speckled mugs to the weight of the space you take behind the counter your fingers brush mine steam on styrofoam and a smile so soft -- all espresso eyes and smooth jazz the grind of the beans and your laugh: my soundtrack it's the coffee bringing me to this place, it's the caffeine that makes me shake, it can't be your brown eyes keeping me awake
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Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
coffee and cream
Like a dove's mournful cry echoing across fresh dew, Like a shadowy silhouette against a steady sunset, Like the way I marry my coffee and cream, Like the way a book's pages flutter between my fingers You are -- A burst of spring, A given hand, A warm embrace, History in the making, Yet perhaps, Like a jolt of blue lightning striking across my midnight sky, You are ephemeral in your ties to me
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Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
Stay before you've gone
Learn to lead from the rear, a constant silhouette against a steady sunset. But back here, there’s so much to fear, and too much to feel. So I sit, scared of the silence.
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Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
Lone wolf
Your eyes are lit low, at dusk, like liquid gold. There’s heavy silence, your words come slow. But, can you just hold on? let’s wait until the dawn, let sunlight touch your promise. What if this goes all wrong? Your fingertips play my spine, you swear things will be fine. I turn into you, already, you feel like mine. Your arms protect me, your eyes, they set me free, your lips promise forever, Don’t you ever leave.
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Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
this is how the world turns
She has a boyfriend who closes his when they play pool, It’s only fair that way. She smiles at him over her cue, all teeth, open mouth and bubblegum lips, and the ball jumps off the table. She screeches a laugh, This girl, she loves loud -- Shaping words to songs, Dancing with a pool cue, Framing my face with her delicate touch, Piano fingers playing etch-a-sketch, connecting my freckles and bridging gaps, changing the world. The sun pours out in her words, She loves with her smile And speaks with her hands. She laughs at a challenge, always eager to take a chance
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Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 7:48 PM UTC
The girl with one eye
We sat with a pair of burgers between us, the Purdue game muted on the big screen. We talked about high school and Friday night football and health insurance and what it feels like to get hit by a car -- our first date, just five years removed. You have abstract works painted like satin in your skin like scars in your skin like memories like nightmares like “I wish I would have’s…” I tease you gently; you beg me not to work so much You frown at your plate swirl your fries in ketchup and in this, I see fragments of the old you. I ask if you’re going to church tomorrow, and you reflect the question like it’s a challenge like belief is always shaped with doubt like even when there’s faith, voices still waiver. There are still tiny fractures in your bones in your voice in our memories. There are still raindrops in your eyes when we talk about high school and Friday night football and health insurance and what it feels like to get hit by a car. There are still scars in your skin in your mind in my heart -- Our first date, just five years removed
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Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 7:53 PM UTC
Tiny fractures
men are sharks and weakness is blood   circle in the shallow waters of my insecurity eyes flashing with hunger   bite off a piece of my heart, help yourself to seconds   let the leftovers go stale   there’s blood in the water like hieroglyphics like liquid hourglass memories from a wolf pack that swallowed me whole all that’s left is a jangling bunch of bones calcium wind chimes the ghost of my screams will be the trumpet your beating will be the drums
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
blood in the water