New Writing

You don’t know me but I have lived a lifetime with you.

The man’s voice had reached where his hands couldn’t have.

Bright lights flash about her, and the city steeps in her lap for an unexpected reunion.

What does her smile look like? Does she have crooked teeth like me? Do her eyes crinkle up when she smiles?

Layers upon layers of fabric, he knew, were surely hampering his beloved white butterflies from fluttering in the breeze.

I was always watching you but you never felt the heat of my gaze.

There is nothing to be said. The hour is past, and he should leave.

She felt as though she had done something terrible. But technically, she had just been singing in her own bathroom, hadn’t she?

When we left, we knew we’d probably never find our way back again.