minutes shy of eleven,
       the sharp blur of too many streetlights
   aiding the throb of caffeine

we lay in the road under a starless sky
            and flirted with death
    for the sake of adrenaline

        cold, wind burning my lungs
              long route back, avoiding trouble
         but my smiles were real


                                               and so were you

and then he looked at me
and said,
“you make me feel like i could win the lottery
with a parking ticket.”
-a.c.b

the security cameras
at the station
have it on record
that i
adore you

I’m always compelled to help
And give more than I can take
I care for the bullied and beaten
Yet called a weak "Snowflake"

The fact that I care so much
A trait I could never forsake
So demonize and criticize me
And call me a gorgeous "Snowflake"

By: Bill MacEachern

you wake up
his hair is spilled across the pillow,
the sun slants across his cheekbone
and his breath is slow and even.
he smells like an open field
and his body is wrapped around yours
so he keeps you warm.
you think,
there is no moment better than this,
that he is too perfect to exist.
but you wake up gasping,
skin soaked in sweat.
you lie there for a long time,
in your completely empty bed.