Creative Writing Blog: Coffee

He sipped his coffee. Three milks, two sugars. Letting the liquid linger in his mouth, he savoured its taste. It was sweet in the beginning but as it went down it turned sour. He set the cup down and stretched back in his seat. There was a soft ding as the coffee shop door opened. A breeze rustled its way into the shop, along with it came the gentle aroma of sunflowers and mild honeydew. He raised his cup and took another sip. For the past seven months he had made it his ritual to sit here and enjoy a cup of coffee. It had first started with his fiancée but when she left, he decided to make it personal. […]

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Creative Writing Blog: Untitled poem

Soft skin and rosy cheeks Small waist, don’t waste Away your youth Tick tock chimes the time The only enemy you can’t beat Harsh sun and white skin Fairy Tale mandates and Fabled demands Prostrate yourself before your idols (gods?) of perfection Glares and piercing stares Silent judgements Scrutiny Jealous rages and harmful remedies Mirrored in mirrors we find Our worst enemy Tear down the idols (adulterous idolatry)—or are they real? Dull fingernails tear at flesh Greedy fingers gouge at the soft, innocent eyes Tear her down, cut her up Take anything you want She wants, I want Everything Raise yourself up (don’t fall down) A goddess made of skeleton and false promises

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Creative Writing Blog: first kiss after senior year sickness

i already know my tongue taste like acid the pink palette is burned by truths that were supposed to stay inside permeate in the soft belly and as we lay side by side in his twin size bed i think about two fingers inside of me pushing hard then spitting up before our first kiss may be our last he knows ill let him touch me anywhere he wants but something about the acid has ruined our trust and i’m lusting for a clean mouth and he’s hiding his disgust

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Creative Writing Blog: wapimisow

father fell asleep drunk. foot on the fire pit. the burning rubber soles of his boots sent smoke signals and heavy clouds floating out over his land. kept the indians out and the mosquitoes off the skin. the green glowing face of a pheasant cock. i grew up worshipping those bastard birds the way he did. the same way we always will in that moment of flash and colour before the buckshot connects and sends our love spiralling limp into the ever-after. that day on the porch. talking for two hours, four beers wortha bullshit between the two of us. complain about the grey and the stucco. the constant rumble of rabbit feet on the road. how his eyes followed […]

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