When my Love Became an Atheist

I kissed him more out of habit than love. The lips parting and partaking, like a half-practicing catholic affecting conviction. He stared into my eyes, expecting devotion beyond the green. I turned my back against his pining, and he made malice in my image. Now I look in the mirror, wondering where the line ends between the skin he caressed, and the body that couldn’t believe. I watched his brown fall. He pushed me, playing the part.

Skin Like Snake

She once wrote, “I wish to shed my skin like a snake and become someone else.”

Dharma Bum

“Stupid to be lonely. How ‘bout just hungry?”