Tag Archives: cinderfella

Blood and Lemon and Salt

“Why can’t we be friends” he asks. “It doesn’t seem right, we’ve known each other so long.” I have come to love the smell of things ending, a fresh and steely cut like blood and lemon and salt air that … Continue reading

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Pretty Men Stone Lady

Part 1 I looked in my sister’s face and found my reflection, the one I had crawled out of somewhere last year, The shell  on the other side of the room, I carry her with me, the carcass, the carapace still venom … Continue reading

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Christmas Post – 2015: Remembering Christmas

This is dedicated to A.D.K, for bringing Christmas back into my life. Even though you left, it stayed behind. Thank you 🙂 TW: Mental Health, mention of suicidal ideation, depression, and anxiety It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that … Continue reading

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Should Have Written

Dear Cinderfella, I know why, and also (maybe, partly) why you never said anything. I know that I didn’t have a zest for life when we met, and I know this bothered you. I know you made me happy, but … Continue reading

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More Closure or I’m Running Out of Titles

You showed your father my poetry. I have to believe I meant something. Not everything, or even close. But maybe just a little, I know I didn’t fill all the chambers of your heart, but I do believe I touched just … Continue reading

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The Gopi

Once upon a time, there was a girl who herded cows, and she spent a good deal of the week churning butter and storing it in earthen pots along the ceiling, held with sari fabrics  which smelled sometimes sweet like almond milk, … Continue reading

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Out

I am out of ideas for writing. I think this is because for a long time, I could only write the best stuff I’ve ever written as a way of dealing with some horrifying emotionally devastating situation. It’s an interesting … Continue reading

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Another Way

“I have closure” is another way of saying “I don’t remember” is another way of saying “It didn’t happen” is another way of saying “It was never real” is another way of saying “I have a good imagination” is another … Continue reading

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On Imagining

I wonder what  writing about love could look like if I didn’t feel dirty remembering.

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Forgiveness

There is (was?) nothing (there) to forgive; your tiny, insignificant, laughably small heart could never have held any of me at all. -cruelty

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