everyone has a story…
I will never forget
The end tastes Bittersweet on my tonguelike copper and cake all at onceI remember the sharp bite of starlighton my skin when I wrote you poetry promising a forever (I guess forever isn’t so long after all) Though the tears streaming down my face are evidence of the wounds You bore into my flesh My hands are not cleanand your blood beneath my fingernails is still wet I can’t help but thinkThis is my fault…
One summer when I was 12
It’s not often that 12 year olds spend their summers wandering mountains with grown men, removed from any contact with their parents, family, or friends. But I was not a typical 12 year old. I attended an all-boys camp in western NC and grew to love hiking, one of the activities that we could do. That summer we decided to hike the Art Loeb Trail, a 30-mile hike in Pisgah National Forest not too far from camp.…
