I’ve spent years as the quintessential lost twenty-something, recklessly curious about the lives of other people I bumped up against and the different paths they took, vaguely uncomfortable with my own. The dots never seemed to connect for me; my trajectory always seemed so confusing that I struggled feeling alright with myself and my story.
My life has had its share of disheartening and painful experiences and I’ve gotten into a habit of trying to create something presentable out of it all. I try to make sense of my disjointed, zig-zagging routes. …
under the scintillating night sky
a river of gleaming silver cuts
Red-layered rock sweeps up
on either side, throwing
where mirrored water reflects
a universe strewn with scattered stars,
in spiraling purple
and blue —
billions of tiny lights
in the water and
in the sky.
Clouds billow like cotton candy pulled apart, like will-o’-the-wisp streaking in blood orange and crimson across the night, and somewhere along the edge strangers gather as mist…
Nighttime is a kaleidoscope,
catching and throwing flashes of movement,
of smiles over coins changing hands, of iridescent lilac-gold.
The heat is a live thing emboldened by the hour and spiced air
presses heavy against skin and hair and clothes.
The market tears apart the night in radiance.
Silk scarves swirl in a whirlpool of color,
eddying green and gold and violet,
orange and sapphire.
Flowering soap with unfolding petals,
red glossy chilies blazing under multi-colored tents,
steaming food and gleaming curves of gold earrings and bangles.
While the world sleeps the night market breathes out energy and chaos. In…
As a woman I’m usually hesitant to get into relationships; I always struggled not losing myself in them. I have to fight the urge to overshare with someone, resist the idea that it takes someone seeing me to make me solid.
We’re all living in two worlds. People with mystery to them seem like an anomaly these days, but something in each of us will always remain a secret. We can only guess who others are, concluding someone’s internal world from the outside, through a window and a looking glass, missing so much in the process. …
The swarming city comes alive
when the sun goes down.
Shadows rush through dark alleys.
You listen as she talks —
crinkled white cigarette
from red-slashed lips.
a personality of its own.
Eyes rimmed in charcoal
in hazel gold irises.
Slow steps and swinging hips down rain-glistening street, she…
The ticking of the clock is excruciating. My chest feels leaden, my stomach knotted.
I sit within four white walls in a cold room lined with desks and computers. At a small desk in the corner a man hunches over a book, carefully sounding out sentences while a young woman looks on and nods encouragingly. Where… were you born…? I was born in…
Shivering, I tuck my hands under my thighs. My mind wants to remember, to slip back into daydreams. Enveloping heat and vibrant colors. Sounds of music and clear, free laughter… I focus on the distant wail of…
My daughter doesn’t see me anymore. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak to me. She doesn’t answer my texts.
She used to have moments of forgetting to say thank you, or being too busy to spend time together. Things like that. And it’s okay, I always understood. She’s grown up, has her own life.
But this is different. I miss her.
We used to laugh. I miss laughing with her. Just last summer we went on a vacation together — drove through Utah and Wyoming, up to Yellowstone. She planned the whole thing. We saw mountains and buttresses (That’s…
She stands alone, waiting for the train to arrive. It’s been nearly six months since she moved to this city and her hatred of it has progressed exponentially.
Metro’s haunted, her colleague had told her during her first week at the new job.
Haunted. Her colleague shrugged. Weird shit happens, people go missing. You take the metro to work, right? Careful at night, Kat. Just sayin’.
Oh. Has anything ever happened to you? Seen any ghosts? A dry smile had tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Nah, I don’t take the metro, basically no one does. Rachel is…