We Could’ve Been Something
Marianne’s name faded, the ink still brave: “Endless love, see you down the road.” The words glowed like a candle that refuses midnight.
Poetry
Some Songs Don’t End.
Her heart stung in that familiar way, as if someone she hadn’t met had once broken it on her behalf. Outside, the wind bent the trees. Inside, she rewound the tape—not ready for the silence that followed.
They Called Him Difficult
She watched him from the back of the venue, where the lights didn’t reach, tears catching on her lashes as he sang a line she knew wasn’t for charts, but for them, the ones who had been bruised by believing too hard in the wrong people
A World on Fire
As always has been and I suppose will continue to be, someone is toasting with champagne and sleeping in soft sheets, while someone is trying to sleep and comfort their crying children in an auditorium full of people to escape bullets.
Father: Happy Birthday. Wish you were here.
My father was Wilson Scott. Although, named after the famous general, he was never a man of war. He and my mother were missionaries until I…