Comments Posted By Sol

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Later that night, your phone on silent and your smile gone brittle, you empty your handbag on my kitchen counter. I make you decaf and toaster waffles while gum wrappers drift down from the lining of your purse like snow. Three dimes, a quarter, two zippo lighters, a napkin from the cheaper coffee place on 9th and Elmwood. Lipstick. A compact mirror with a hairline fracture. Time.

» Posted By Sol On 02.08.2018 @ 6:29 pm


Does the lovely Phoenix, with its brilliant plumage set a flame, think its past personas to always be one in the same?

Are they all disposable like feathers rendered ash, or could the creature have learned a thing or two before fashioning a new mask?

» Posted By Sol On 03.01.2017 @ 12:25 pm


Night comes like a thunderstorm, washing over us in a pulse of light and sound. My heartbeat is screaming in my ears; I am the ocean, the ebb and flow of it. Red strobe heat lighting, timpani ribcage, cheap liquor shot rattling hot and loose in the hollows of my chest.
She dances like a deluge, like rain falls after the roar; when her eyes meet mine, my everything stutters.

» Posted By Sol On 11.05.2016 @ 7:16 pm


quiet antiseptic morning,
with my words falling like rain.
oxygen is a tired old thing
and the clouds are still,
no wind to stir them.
give me a second,
a minute,
water circling a rusting drain –
i build water clocks
out of my lungs
and charm the weary air
back into them.

» Posted By Sol On 12.31.2015 @ 2:20 pm


Listen, darling. Listen to the way the water drips from the old faucet, the way pages rustle in the wind. There are ghosts in the cupboards, between dusty bottles of breakfast syrup and your old, chipped mug. When I look at you, I see time in your eyes and a quiet lingering in the sloping lines of your face. I think, darling. I think, listen. Here are the things that were once ours but can’t be found again.

» Posted By Sol On 10.22.2015 @ 6:26 pm


Se encogió lentamente, preguntándose cómo las cosas habían terminado de esa forma. Estaba torcido, despreciable. Una cosa deforme y sin nombre.
“Torcido”. Formó una mueca con los labios y se encogió más aún, tratando de abrazar sus rodillas y pegarlas al pecho como había hecho tantas veces antes del incidente. “Torcido”, sí.

» Posted By Sol On 06.05.2015 @ 6:39 pm


These days, he’s a glass half empty, a perforated water balloon that will never fill properly again. Like this – if you take a heart, and a hole punch, and then suddenly you’re not pumping enough blood. His eyes are nearly ocean, but maybe the light is starting to go out. Here’s how it goes, he’s thinking, and the glass is only a third of the way full, and I think maybe if you run significant figures on that it comes out empty again. We’re so full of almosts.

» Posted By Sol On 05.25.2015 @ 8:10 am


He is laughing again. We have grown so old, I think, and we are full of things that never came to pass. There is a narrow scar along the edge of his wrist, and I am thinking that if I followed it North maybe I would find the ocean, the thunder, and his eyes. I am thinking that scars are less signs of hurt than signs of healing, or maybe of a half-healed hurt. He is still laughing, for we are old now. I’m trying not to worry; it’s just a flesh wound, love.

» Posted By Sol On 05.12.2015 @ 2:32 pm


I think – maybe it’s not so hard to be an artist. All you’ve gotta do is color inside the lines, yeah? All there is to it, really. Follow the little curvy bits in the plastic, try not to get your pencil stuck.
I think – if I lift up this stencil, will i ever find exactly where to put it back, or will my lines always be a little off?
I think – Maybe oil painting’s a little more me.
I think – my sister used to paint. That’s weird, I don’t really think of her much these days, but I think she must’ve been into that sort of stuff, because I have this hazy mental image of her with a palette in her hand (or maybe it was a cigarette. Art’s a little like that).
I think – My lines are like two millimeters to the left. Stuff must have shifted.

» Posted By Sol On 05.05.2015 @ 2:16 pm


It should have been him. I understand that’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s not wrong. It should’ve – we both know that, and still – still – you hide from the fact. It should’ve been him. Yeah, the universe put her in his place, probably mostly because the universe likes to screw with people’s heads, but remember last Sunday? Remember his eyes and – and the Christmas tree, and – and the blue light at the window and how your dog – and his stupid eyes, remember that? How they looked at each other, then, in the half-light of evening falling into night?

» Posted By Sol On 05.04.2015 @ 1:30 pm


It must be difficult, said Elizabeth, and I thought yeah, maybe. Footholds can be tough to find in the dark, and my hands are made of nothing but chalk these days so I can keep my grip on things. But you – well. You are made of steep cliffs and rope burns and eighty degree angles. Yeah, maybe – like that. Your words climbing out of your throat. Tell me, Liz – can it ever be difficult for us to love him? Maybe if you don’t go to the mountain, the mountain comes to you.

» Posted By Sol On 05.02.2015 @ 12:30 pm


So what if I loved him? So what if our hair was cropped short, and my eyes were three shades darker? There were songs in our throats and we spoke in tongues in the half-dark of midnight. It was cold, I remember, and I was singing. To will is to want is to hope; to laugh is to see him. So what if my hands were rough and bleeding, and if we only had so much time. We were boys then – we knew no future tenses.

» Posted By Sol On 04.26.2015 @ 10:10 am


I am waiting. I have grown tired, my skin thick and knitted with silvery scars. I am waiting, and in my waiting I remember her hair, threaded through with gold. The memories grow back, now, some altered, some the same. Here, wings unfurling from her spine in great swathes of feather and bone; there, her tired eyes. She is her sunrise and my morning.

» Posted By Sol On 12.25.2014 @ 2:27 pm


She was receding, going out like the tide in summer, the sort that leaves the sand half-wet and dark, and I waved at her, as if to catch her eye. She will turn, I was thinking. She will turn and see me and her pale eyes will catch the light and maybe she will smile. She will say, I almost didn’t see you standing there, and I will tell her:
I almost didn’t see me, too.
She was receding, going out like the tide in summer, the sort that leaves me like the drying sand.

» Posted By Sol On 10.10.2014 @ 2:35 pm


We have learned these war games like the insides of palms, lifelines and trajectories. Sometimes I look at you, and I am back in the sticky-soft spring, a thousand miles south of here, where you were young and your eyes like a thin haze over the sky. Battle plans in the tired curving of your shoulders and sea wind like kisses along my spine. I know your commands before they leave your throat. I can anticipate your movements. It is on days such as this one that I thank every god I don’t believe in for putting us on the same side.

» Posted By Sol On 09.25.2014 @ 12:54 pm


Summer, and she’s waiting again, her cheek pressed flat against the cool plaster of the wall. She could walk away now, never looking back, her soft shadow lingering, but she is staying. All the space in the world, and all she wants in some breathing room and little more time. This is where things truly start. Autumn, and she goes.

» Posted By Sol On 06.17.2014 @ 8:37 am


I am waiting at the baggage claim for a green suitcase with you in it, with your baby clothes still folded with neat creases and your teddy bear, coming apart at the seams, and a sketchbook full of people with crayon grins and lopsided eyes. I am waiting for a fraying hair ribbon in golden curls. I am waiting for a pink-lipped smile and the way you laughed. I am waiting for a memory that I bundled in bubble wrap and shipped across the world.
(I will wait until nightfall, until they turn out the lights and leave me in the green glow of the exit signs).

» Posted By Sol On 05.06.2014 @ 1:51 pm


Your charcoal pencil swooped across the page, gliding, blending shades of darkness.
“Let me show you,” you whispered, as trees bloomed across the canvas of the page, but I was already looking out the window at a bird which was failing to take flight.

» Posted By Sol On 02.17.2014 @ 8:20 am


Once upon a time, Stacey and I were playing pirates, with our corrugated cardboard ship and our newpaper telescopes that bit into the skin around our eyes, and Stacey said, “If I were on the moon, I would look through a telescope and see the whole earth,” and I laughed at her, because why would you have a paper telescope on the moon, anyway, except now I sidestep around the craters and there is stardust under my feet and the sun to my left and the earth to my right and all of space in front of me, and my only regret is not having brought a newspaper, because I could probably use a little perspective here.

» Posted By Sol On 12.12.2013 @ 6:00 pm


It was a night rally. We were running around the camp, looking for answers. I was chubby and got lost because couldnt run fast. Nobody noticed me. I wandered in the night hearing sometimes some laughs or singing far away. The night wasnt very dark, it was full moon. I found my way back alone. Thats when I wasnt afraid of the dark.

» Posted By Sol On 07.30.2013 @ 9:10 pm


I think about delight, it’s all about the summer evening of laying down in the hot sun and finally seeing the bartender coming over with a set of drinks on his platter. The taste of nice cooked steak, the barking of a dog whenever you come home from work, and kneel down to have him give you his kisses. The feeling of waking up in the morning filled with energy you didn’t know you have. It’s a great feeling, and doesn’t happen too often.

» Posted By Sol On 07.09.2013 @ 8:39 am


The extent of taboo is like a kiss from a lover. Hard, desperately wanting, and somewhat delicious. It’s consuming, all consuming because in the end a taboo is salvation. It’s what ends up being the one word that keeps you alive.

» Posted By Sol On 05.13.2013 @ 8:48 pm


Scientific ways to lead an investiagtion or any kind of activity it involves things like: percentages, questions, answers, investigation, grafics, material and probabilities,

» Posted By Sol On 12.09.2012 @ 9:04 pm


I woke up and looked outside the window… and I saw the drops on it… A feeling of pure emptiness and loneliness invaded me… and I couldn’t get up of my bed… I was there, sitting… waiting… to find the strength to get up and face, yet, a new day, with a smile across my face.

» Posted By Sol On 10.11.2012 @ 11:24 pm

On a rainy day, Mary went out of her house, in order to go to school… when she met a guy, who had eyes as blue as the sky itself. And there, at that moment, she knew he’d be the man whom she would spend the rest of her days.

» Posted By Sol On 10.11.2012 @ 11:20 pm


‘No dejan hacer nada, te retienen, te encierran. Estás castigado y encerrado, por haber hecho algo malo.

» Posted By Sol On 07.06.2012 @ 7:18 pm


So hungry and want to eat something? What is better than to take friends and family out to eat at a French Brunch. Something great to do on a sunday, don’t you think?

» Posted By Sol On 03.09.2012 @ 6:26 am



» Posted By sol On 03.07.2012 @ 8:49 pm


stalking, creeping, lurking, constantly thinking about a certain idea
needing and wanting something or someone. the idea consumes your thoughts often, i.e. when you like a guy

» Posted By sol On 03.12.2011 @ 9:59 pm


i was almost done with my homework when i heard the bell ring… I went to see who was there, and i was really surprised when i saw him… the love of my life… he was here just to tell me that he loves me too… i was astonished, didn’t know how to react… was i dreaming about it? no, it was real, finally he told me the words i wanted to hear for so long!

» Posted By sol On 03.07.2011 @ 10:45 pm

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