Sunday, 6pm

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

The Year Mark

This transitional period of time, between apartments. Where you’re living out of a bag of clothing, all of your stuff packed away, curtains stripped from the windows, movers scheduled for Sunday. It feels like you’re living in a home that is no longer yours. You’re an illegal squatter. An odd, odd limbo. Why does moving … Continue reading The Year Mark

Fly By

The days keep flying by, and all I can think of is that I hope time stops but not yet only when I round the corner and finally see you and drink in the way you look at me and forget how I got from my door and into your arms, burrowing till our bodies … Continue reading Fly By