“once bloomed”

Rotting buds and once bloomed petals. I push my thumb in. Urging for wetness. Yet met with a brittle sea of thirsty soil. I bring my nose towards the brown patches, inhaling deeply. Unafraid and yearning for a familiar smell. I pluck the tiny green leaves, put them in my pocket. My tongue glides the tip of my thumb. A familiar taste. I put the plant in a glass jar. I call it “us.” I leave it there. I walk away.

When Love Turns to Something Else.


a six sentence story

It all started on a day like today. I decided to start a story with “It all started.” These three words, made of gunpowder to an unplanned rushed story, hold more potential than talent. When words refuse to lend themselves I write in a panic “It all started when my heart stopped working” or “It all started when he told me his sister died.” Yesterday told me to write “It all started when it never started at all.” Today, however, started like never before, on the cusp of tomorrow ending.