I am sitting quietly, grieving in silence. My hands rest neatly in my lap. My new bangs hide my swollen eyelids. My fingers — raw from being picked at — tell on me. I look out the window, tempted to publicly shame you. But I don’t. I won’t. So I
None of us asked for this version of the world. But here we are. So we teach our children how to move through it... where safety lives, where it doesn’t, and who to call for when fear rises. Mothers have always been the quiet network. The watchers. The ones
There is a softness inside me that I wish I could share with the world. But I learned very early on that softness is an open door for those who want to come in and wreak havoc on my soul. One time, I was extra soft. I showed someone the
I was a gypsy in your winds. But now I've settled into something I didn’t know I was supposed to become. Secretly…between you and me… I feel trapped. The darkness that once empowered me is trickling away, and all I once was is no longer welcome.
Supongo que sí, así debe ser la realidad de la situación. Y es algo que simplemente hay que aceptar: que la vida es una complicación hecha por humanos. El sol atrae el placer y la luna, el lloriqueo. Mi voz siempre va a buscar la luz de tu amor. Mi
I am not healing in love and light. I heal in blood. In spite. You tried to kill me — I’m not done yet. I’m coming back to collect that debt. Breathing down your neck, laughing in your ear, fingers in your chest feeding on your fear. Blood on
I checked my calendar, and I had an appointment at 3:33. I was scheduled to meet the Devil and have tea. The Devil and I had been friends all along… He understood me, and I understood where in my life he belonged. So, I made my way toward downtown…
Love doesn’t hit you like a freight truck. It doesn’t leave you bruised and bleeding on the side of the road, mouth full of dust, wondering what you did wrong. Love lifts you from the depths of darkness, props you upright, and lets you observe. Love comes in
What is there to witness but the realization that there is so much more? A blade of grass, the tender platform for the sole of a child. A spectacular view of floral escapades flowing densely against the walls of Babylon. What is there to witness but the beauty of entropy,
What an inconvenience it’s become to walk this earth in differently colored skin. The absence of melanin, once mythologized as the standard of purity, is nothing more than a genetic mutation, a lack of nutrient-rich pigment, essential and ancient. I’m haunted by a nostalgia for a time when
She eats cake while perched upon your knee, Bathed in dazzling impurity. Her lips, sultry brown… The same color of her other two erected Crowns. She feeds you your own lies, and you savor each bite, For to refuse would forfeit the night. She spins in circles, a sacred trance,
Hope is a string that withstands the fiercest storm. Hope is a string that wraps around your wrist, your finger, and, eventually, your neck. Hope is a diamond buried deep in the desert. Hope is the opulence of a light being. Hope is an energy all its own, much like
I once met a figment of a man we shall call Mr. Smith. He was sleek. Smooth. All charm and chivalry, wrapped in steel. He let me touch him without hesitation… my fingertips gliding over his secrets, his safety, his silent promises. He made me breathless. Unbridled. Wet. I stood
Y hubo una dama muy bella, que un día se casó en una boda negra. Ella se vistió de blanco, pero su alma estaba teñida de negro. Los violines cantaban mientras ella lloraba, y le pedía a Dios, por favor, que no la casara. Pero Él no escuchó, y allí
You mistook my silence for yearning. My art is not an altar to your absence. I write of ghosts, yes… but none of them wear your name. The spell you claim I cast? It was a warding. A hex. You should be whispering those things to the one who waits
I am sorry, dad. I am sorry, dad, for not being the girl you wanted. I'm sorry for not being an athletic, fun-loving boy you flaunted. I'm sorry for being overly emotional, always filled with tears. I'm sorry for hoping you'd still
Oh, the Softness of Love... By Elaine Degro How it covers me like the favorite blanket a father keeps for his child. It covers the wounds still raw and poorly stitched together. It gushes through the darkest parts of my soul, leaving them unchanged—but open to go free. It
It had been a very long time since Amelia had wandered with grace. She woke in the morning, put on her boots, put on her favorite cozy sweater, wrapped it tightly around herself, and went outside into the world. The world was very cold and covered in snow, yet the
The "In Between" Written by Elaine Degro Disclaimer: This series reflects my personal experiences and opinions. It is not intended as medical advice. Individual experiences with TMS and mental health treatments may vary. Session 3 was where I finally broke the wall and started to experience something much
The IMAX Screen Written by Elaine Degro Disclaimer: This series reflects my personal experiences and opinions. It is not intended as medical advice. Individual experiences with TMS and mental health treatments may vary. I arrived at the session positive and upbeat. I had virtually no physical side effects from the
The Attic Written by Elaine Degro Disclaimer: This series reflects my personal experiences and opinions. It is not intended as medical advice. Individual experiences with TMS and mental health treatments may vary. I started my TMS journey years ago. I had been researching it, circling it, almost choosing it, but