• aria autumn commented on the post, souvenir 5 years, 3 months ago

    I traded postcards for the times I could not see your face through the bathroom window, looking cooly through the glass as I brushed my teeth, combed my hair. I listened through the walls for your feet shuffling dirt along the sidewalk, for the sound of your back knocking gently against your knee, but only found an empty august morning, the…[Read more]

  • aria autumn commented on the post, allowed 5 years, 5 months ago

    She’s not allowed to say it aloud, don’t you see? She’s fidgeting, turing her pleats over her hands, she’s finding it incredibly hard to breathe–she cannot see herself with me. Not aloud. Not in site. She will not allow herself to put sound to her thoughts, to our thoughts, to our hands intertwined.

  • The last speck of laughter tumbled lightly from her lips and into the shallow pool of the morning announcements.

  • The salt air chewed at her hands like the cold winter winds she had left behind in New York. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking of you,” she mumbled.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, oven 5 years, 6 months ago

    Gentle moment on the green roof of a cold and dusty house–the one we left behind. I’ve never read silence quite like I could in your face that night in the gentle murmur of our laughter–all too loud and all too quiet under such bright moonlight.

  • Pounding on the door but I would not let her in, not with the words misspelled and misshapen like a drunken tattoo on the back of my hand–she would know, she would see the faint tear-stained pages that I could not erase and could not repeat.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, reminded 5 years, 8 months ago

    Your mercy reminded me of the faint flicker before the candle blows out–that last inhale of breath before giving up and floating away as a smokey memory.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, desolate 5 years, 8 months ago

    The last quiet crumb of laughter sailed gently from her lip. There were no windows, no hint of light to flick across her eyes.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, left 5 years, 9 months ago

    I won’t relieve you–not if you’re leaving us. Not if you’re leaving me here. A bitter pit of what you chewed away.

  • This–this all choked. It coughed, it hovered, it burst forth, it thrashed, it wept thoroughly and then it subsided into stillness.

  • Could you speak a little louder please? I cannot hear you over the sound of the sun glaring through my window and the small specks of dust clouding my eyes.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, still 5 years, 9 months ago

    The violin sat still in the corner. One night, she sang. One night, tactless and tipping over her own stilettos, she would hear me.

  • I challenged her in her office; plucked and prodded and nipped at her heels until her graying head swayed gently back and forth in disapproval.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, hapless 5 years, 10 months ago

    The crickets chirped through the crisp night air like a willow rustling against the small, seamlessly beautiful stucco wall. I wasn’t exactly enthused about the letter on the nightstand, but I wasn’t going to let it lay under the lamp’s sleepy glow without at least giving it the benefit of a once-over.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, bowtie 5 years, 10 months ago

    The bowtie was nestled atop a loose shirt button that he had meant to tighten, but had forgotten, as he forgets many things. He forgot to take a quick peek in the mirror, forgot to take out the trash, forgot to kiss his daughters goodbye before he let himself out.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, seated 5 years, 11 months ago

    She was seated in the second row, three chairs from the cushion with the bluish stain from an old painting accident. But she didn’t know you, yet. She didn’t know the rotting walls of the lecture hall where you spent half your nights and snippets of your days.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, talon 5 years, 11 months ago

    Broken through the translucent skin stretched tight across her face I saw the milky white tip of a dislocated canine tooth, reaching like a talon into the stale air of the hospital.

  • Derailed. The discussion we thought we were having was derailed by the sweet-tongued bluebird on the windowsill singing the song we hadn’t heard since summer’s passing. She said “show me your lowest mark,” and I pulled out my arm for her to rest her palm.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, spiral 5 years, 11 months ago

    There was a spiral notebook sprawled casually across the desk she left behind. I’ve never been one for snooping, but the faint scent of old coffee and the echinacea lotion she used to rub along the lines of her hands drew me so near I could almost see her hovering above the scratchy script scrawled onto the pages.

  • aria autumn commented on the post, confide 5 years, 11 months ago

    I confided in her–a sunflower seed dropped sweetly into a garden of damp earth and sweet, unfiltered light. “This is too far,” she reminded. She chided me for my candor.