by Ian Watts A lot of my adult decisions are based on convenient parking. Looking for an apartment where I can get residential parking. Red line to brown to the 73 so as not to worry about parking. Get to work early to snatch that premier parking, or snoozing through nine again (we have a … Continue reading The Life-Saving Importance of Available, Affordable Parking
Tag: original poem
and I wanted to
I dreamt of her two nights in a row. The first night, I saw her leaving a train and our eyes met - I forgot to look away - and her smile melted all the tightness in my chest into warmth. She hugged me and sparkled so brightly that I thought I’d go blind - … Continue reading and I wanted to
the corner of your eye
it flits just out of sight, enough to make you rub your eyes and wonder if you really saw it. a breeze and a buzz around your ear, a giggle that echoes gently as you whip your head around and fail to see it once more.
Six
Six of them, arranged just so, framing my head like a hand at the nape of my neck, drawing me closer to kiss my forehead. Six. Always six. Six strewn around me, tossed off the side while my hand grips another or holds it over my face so my gasps don’t wake my roommate. Six … Continue reading Six
Residue
He told me that small spiders will jump from tree to tree, bush to bush, letting a delicate string carry them safely on the wind, leaving residue behind that we walk into in the mornings. I listened, absorbed, nodded and wondered where my own string would lead if I jumped away from him.
Dizzy
I wanna dance around my kitchen with you, letting the music move us, spinning my head until my hair clings to the light sweat on my brow catches in my eyelashes and I blame my dizziness on the spins. I want you to jokingly shake your hips and be a surprisingly good dancer. I want … Continue reading Dizzy
Tugging at the Edges
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
