Caramel, caffeine, chocolate, and espresso aromas mix with the faint rotting wood smell of the coffee shop. The professors sitting across from me laugh at boring jokes I’ve heard from every other professor before. Students sit typing on their laptops oblivious to the world around them. A fly skitters across my marble table top stopping briefly next to my blue berry soda in the old-time glass bottle. Jumbled together voices create a quiet gentle hum with certain distinguishable words like “de...

Where I live there is a location called Lover’s Leap because, as old waconian legend states, an Indian and his lover were not allowed to marry so they jumped off of a cliff together. Lover’s Leap is a large cliff over looking the gorgeous blue Brazos river and the small suburban houses of Waco. The legend makes the cliff embrace the tragic romantic feel most writers can never successfully emulate, while at the same time keeping the cliff’s serene beauty. I picture the two Indians on Lovers’ ...

As I hold my eyes to Mother Mary so she’ll understand, I fantasize about you because you are burned into my retina; Your soft warm breath gently caressing my ears, Calling to me like the curiosity of Pandora’s Box, Pulling me in like a narcissist’s reflection. While small beads of blood and sweat Pioneer a worn pathway that dribbles down my hands, I can feel the rosary I pray with cutting into my thick skin. I’m distracted because I realize our first time will be our last, And I’m tired of be...

I can feel an indescribable pain in my chest where I feel as if nothing will fill me up, and my thoughts keep racing back and forth. Everything I feel, at the moment, I deserve for being naïve and thinking I was special enough not to be added to the statistic--- Believing there was love beyond sex. There is no such thing as romantic love. All that exists is sex. Sex is emptying whether attached to a beautifully written score in a romantic comedy or in an average hotel room where you spread yo...

My hands are trembling Throat closing Nose running Unsteady shaking gasps for air Salty taste in my mouth Dirty skin I do not deserve my skin I can feel an indescribable pain in my chest where I feel as if nothing will fill me up, and my thoughts keep racing back and forth. Everything I feel, at the moment, I deserve for being naïve and thinking I was special enough not to be added to the statistic. Believing there was love beyond sex. There is no such thing as romantic love. All that exists ...

Faking orgasms underneath someone who doesn’t give a damn As shaking hands attempt to dig into unstable land; Two wills meeting and fighting to be on top Gasping words of agreement just to satisfy and promote lies. Words she has never spoken, and desires never wanted Being whispered against her ears and telling her she should want it; Weird sensations taking place in her toes, Her mind trying to decide if this is the only thing she should know, As her heart brings up strange questions of indi...

You took your promises and Smashed red lipstick on my mouth Told me this is what it takes to be great. You pushed me in front of those judges and made me smile While you burned me with a hot iron cause I couldn’t smile harder. You told me to tell the judges that I had passion for what I did and saw the hollow look that inhabited my eyes like a holocaust victim that couldn’t survive, Scratched my legs with your acrylic finger nails, and threw a puffy sleeved red dress on over my head just to w...

Her face is beaded with cold sweat and her eyes slowly grow larger; A warm feeling lies between her legs as she rubs her neck up and down; back and forth slowly thinking faster of any alternative she can find. Her eyes darting from door to door twitching and moving like a crack addict remembering that time in Bio lab where she saw a cat that died with a full bladder and it is this moment that she realizes the world is obsessed with water. Her body is shaking as she tests the limits of how lon...

The constant burning sensation; keep poking me in the eyes to no longer attribute this to repitition; But to call it a cataclysmic event in which I wake up from my death and am reborn; covered in amniotic fluid; my father's thoughts: his peace, his love illuminating a loud poetic event: She is changing. Lick my face and wake me up, taste the difference of my soul, then tell me if you notice that I am whole, if you still see the bruises and scars that adorn my body, or that ever quiet person w...