by Ian Watts “I don’t want to talk about it,” Adam mutters, shifting awkwardly as he sits. His suede jacket is folded over crossed arms, clasping it to his chest like a flotation device. He is embarrassed at the words as soon as he speaks them; they make him feel small, like a child petulantly … Continue reading Outpatient
by JP “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said quietly. She paused, blinked; registered that I had interrupted her. Something flashed across her expression--irritation? But she smiled warmly and pulled me closer to her, dispelling the thought. I felt a pang of guilt. “I-I’m sorry….” My lip quivered, and I looked away. “Oh, … Continue reading You Can Trust Me
by Melech Bialo I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna talk about how things can always be worse. Things can also be better. I don't wanna talk about being positive all the time, brushing aside the metaphorical strand of hair that may represent the challenges that are constantly in my face. I don't … Continue reading For Better or Worse
By Anonymous I don't want to talk about it, but I can't stop. This broken heart is ugly. This shattered heart is embarrassing. This wounded thing inside me is shameful and I don't want anyone to see it, but I can't stop. "It'll hurt less if I talk about it," I assure myself. It's like … Continue reading Tugging at the Edges
by Ola Faleti "I don't want to talk about it." "Yes, you do. You have that stupid grin all over your face." "I think I love her." "Really?" "Nah, but her tongue is incredible." "You bastard." "She told me she could knot a cherry stem in her mouth." "Mmm hmm." "I believe it." "You shacking … Continue reading Sunday, 6pm
By Cat Coule “I don't want to talk about it,” I told Matthew. I turned away from him, towards the ocean. I was lying...and I wasn’t lying. My heart wanted. My throat did not. This was the one thing I had wanted us to talk about for so long. And, yet, if the words came … Continue reading You seem…sad.
by Jeff Fleischer “I don’t want to talk about it!” “Not this again,” his mother said. Wendy knew from her first two progeny that it was important to encourage a child’s creativity. She also knew that there was a fine line between that encouragement and cementing bad habits. Her oldest’s brief dalliance with clown college … Continue reading Encouragement
i miss the smell of the grass after it rains when the earth below is so saturated that it takes all of my self control not to kick off my shoes and bury my feet ankle-deep. when you inhale deeply, and the moisture fills you up up up up till you feel lightheaded with the … Continue reading after it rains
I adopted a cactus today, that never before saw the light of day. As a homecoming, I showed him the sunset. He didn’t react.
"Isn't it fun to fall in love?" he asks, not waiting for an answer and laughing at his own cleverness. A sandy curl falls over one dark brown eye and he leaves it there. I'm sure he thinks that he looks charming, a romancer and an artist. His eyes leave mine and rake across my … Continue reading The Worst Thing in the World