she sits on a stoop her ass and thighs feeling the numb of months of winter through her jeans through the cement through the vibration of the garbage truck down the street she coos, a hand outstretched to a cat with ugly scars and sad drippy eyes that have seen colder nights and hotter days … Continue reading

He

waxes poetic on the apocalypse i attempt to listen but a gaze so loud demands my attention a looks so intent brings a drought to my lips scrutiny so heated no wonder his eyes of swirling blue the shade of the most pure flame make my skin burn hotter than the spring sun