He speaks that betrayer's truth, dear, that secret that makes me ashamed. Such a simple thing, on short lived event, yet why does it matter so much to me? The betrayer's truth, oh how it stings, I know it full well in all its depths. Yet the final blow is when I realize that he … Continue reading Betrayer’s Truth
My mother always had a inappropriate way about her. To this day I can still see something like a wild, passionate teenager in her that wouldn't look out of place at a beer-bong party or tearing off her top in a wet T-shirt contest. I also know that she would laugh if I told her this, because … Continue reading A Wild Spirit with a Tame Heart
I am the other woman's daughter. Though I came first, I did not come when the heart was decided. And didn't leave, when it changed its mind. I am the other woman's daughter. Daughter of the ex. Spare of a High School romance. Extra of the second broken marriage, and annoyance of the third. Daughter … Continue reading Daughter of the Other Woman
Bite deep to my bones and take breath to tell what taste I possess. Lick wide to gather all the touch so I can be velveteen. Then clutch me hard and desperate, with sight thrown back to fully smell my afterimage: A flash of red and solo.
He, the great who knows he is great, takes his time with sturdy shoes and a shop full of the world's next wonders carving for himself a legacy that he knows is a legacy. So many hate him for knowing it. He, the rich, who only speaks not of it because, to him, there's a … Continue reading About Father
My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth. My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, a … Continue reading Wet Wings
Sometimes I look back on this ex of mine who turned out to be a sociopath. I write more about him in my short-blurg of the passion confused boy. But on the sociopath stuff--for reals. Did the researched. He told me himself after such and such tests. Yep...but...I guess I'm still trying to make sense … Continue reading His Black Bench
You dream so many things. Leaving me to hold my tongue and confess I don't believe. Because you dream to cope, and I dream for direction. You, to imagine meaning to your strife. And I to put a place to strive for. You don't remember, I can't forget. That I in my weakness can only … Continue reading My Spouse, the Dreamer
Friend, what have we come to? I think about sending you a gift without knowing if it's even worth it. You speak of friendship, but how is it that I can still mourn when no fissure has broken us apart? Just breathing and sex. I miss you but wonder how on earth you could still … Continue reading Undrifting Friend
Friend, who told me to close my laptop, because gangsters with yo-yos were making me bust out in German class: I'm sorry. I thought you had forgotten about me. Not entirely, but, in a way. Kind of like a kid freshly moved from home forgets their parents. You made new friends. It's okay, they were there, I … Continue reading I’m A Bad Friend
Author T.S. Lowe 