ArchiveMay 2014

Your arms are a roadmap to your anxiety. Small pink scabs mark your biceps like landmarks. YOU scratch between the points and deposit a strand of hair behind your ear. Another strand slips out. YOU pinch and twist the hair around your finger, staring down – eyebrows furrowed – at your split ends that break like a forked road, because you’re too scared to look at me. Your fingers move...

Beginning excerpt of a piece I’ve been trying to start for a few months. Feedback is much appreciated! – Dahv * * *   We are fighting again. I’m sitting upright in my bed, staring at my laptop screen, resting my thumbs on the space bar for YOU. I can’t remember the last time I lied down in my bed. Actually lied down. No electronic device heaving heat onto my lap or draining...