Describing Black To A Blind Person

Black is mysterious. She attends work every day in a scandalously fitting dress, the hem dangerously high above the knee. Her shoulders are back and her head is held high. Her hair feels gelled in a slick back in a ponytail, gripped by the tightest hair elastic. Continue reading

The Year of the Writer – Part 2

A year ago I decided 2015 was going to be “The Year of the Writer.” As other new years resolutions crept down the rabbit hole, this one proudly stood above ground and even climbed a few trees.

I started a blog which gained just under 1,500 followers in a year. Continue reading

The Rock Cycle

It takes a great deal of heat to melt rocks into magma. I wonder… is there a similar technique that allows a cold heart to soften with warmth? To light a match under the ribcage and hope the ice melts before spring? I think about what it must be like to turn stone cold earth into flaming hot lava when my mother steps into a room. Continue reading

Museum of Memories

Do you remember that time we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art?

You trailed me through the Greek statues as I gawked at my “ancestors.”

Making poses next to Artemis and Apollo, as if we were Gods ourselves.

We thought ¬†we were… didn’t we?

That we had it all. Continue reading