When the glove finally slips past the second knuckle of my fingers, I sigh, glad that it is the final piece of my disguise. A glance at the mirror shows the fruits of my labor. One thin man clad head to toe in clothing with nary a sliver of skin in sight, which is excellent ...

The hard blow fell across her back from behind. “Get fucked by a Beluvian tocar!” Luna swore at the offender. Her electric orange outposter splashed down her shirt and onto the data pad she was reading. She turned to locate the dead grinter who’d doused her in her favorite beverage, only to find a trembling waitress backing away from ...

February is the month of gray and the month of love all wrapped up into one. Did someone plan this phenomenon? I believe it is all a plan to get us through the last cold, gray month of winter before the promise of spring lies before us. Some may call it a capitalist ploy to ...

An acrostic poem about a lover's bold declaration of love for their Valentine.

I thought I had the Ten of Cups And wouldn’t be alone, I read a family in my cards Together we’d build a world of love. But instead my fate Draws the six of swords: A woman adrift skewered by swords. Did I swap my Ten of Cups Or was it snatched away by Fate? ...

The old woman set aside a yellowed, dog-eared script atop a tower of books by her chair. She sat back and rested her head on a well-worn spot in the recliner, her short, wavy gray hair flattened. Her name, Grace Averill, and a date of June 1957 were scribbled on the script’s first page, A ...

I saw the heartbreak coming from a mile away. Starting with the breathless Wow Of that long-desired first kiss Our time was ticking down, finite; It was scarcely a matter of months, weeks No more than a handful of nights In the span of a whole lifetime Fate let me spend asleep in your arms. ...