Your father is with you, now. Resting in the hollow of your throat, resting in a gold locket. It's small, on a delicate chain. It's not fancy, there is no engraving, the chain is unembellished, so it's perfect. It's not about the look, it's about what's inside ( Read more... )

Journal entry... November 2011 ( Read more... )

Hush hush say your hands as you whisper your jeans up your thighs and button them. They didn't fit four months ago. You don't exactly know when your body melted off far enough that these rested loosely at the waist. You don't know when you heated your wax legs until you could work them thin and smooth, stretch out your torso over your bone wick. ( Read more... )

She closes her eyes, face somehow both empty and pained at the same time. I take the moment to lean in. Her hair may be falling out, but her eyelashes are still dark at the edges of her trembling lids. My vision unfocuses, and they make up the body of the butterflies resting there. Drawn like a short sweep of charcoal, dividing the shadows on her ( Read more... )