TwilightHinata

Yellow like the long, braided hair of my childhood best friend. Like our glasses of lemonade on the kitchen table right next to her father's whiskey. Like the faded bruises on her arms the last time I ever saw her. Yellow like the sunflowers that grew in my grandfather's garden, taller than the both of us. Like the walls of the hospital room my grandmother was in the day of his funeral. Like the pages of the old books I read on the rainy days that followed. Yellow like the dress I wore for the first time on the day I moved into my first apartment. Like the glow of our dining room lamp the night I cried and begged to stay. Like our bedroom a

Every morning, right when the sun’s rays begin to blind me, I close my eyes. I see the tan carpet and long blue curtains, the circular coffee table with the coasters she never used, the freckles on her face that she was insecure about, the faded highlight of the hair she never wanted to grow out. She asks me for a ring I haven’t worn in months- except once at Christmas dinner, for appearance’s sake. Yet, I am crying when she tells me to pack my things, when she tells me she wants to be alone, when she tells me that it’s over. She has said all of these things before, but this is the first time she’s really meant

I keep my memories packed in boxes in the farthest corner of my mind. They are reaching for my last ray of light like weeds desperate to meet the sun. I cut them back, but more always take their place. I realize I’ve slipped up again when I wake with the taste of cheap vodka burning the back of my throat. I make a cup of coffee with the night’s blood still on my knuckles. I know it will be cold before I drink it. I inject bottled water into my veins trying to get clean from the inside out. I peel the layers of my skin back until I am soft and pink and raw. I’ve done it so many times that it doesn’t hurt anymore. I u

Our relationship was a dollar sign. I was smooth like the edges of the letter S and just as curved. You were the winding path through a fog so thick we both lost sight of reality. Each of us was a parallel line, and reason should have reminded us that even if those lines wanted to cross, it just wasn’t possible. You searched for flecks of green and gold in my eyes but found yourself drowning in blue. You slipped the silver ring from my finger and I never once looked back. You tossed me aside like a couch cushion while you dug for loose change. You built a bed of dollar bills, and you’ll sleep in it alone. You measured my worth i

You are thirteen years old, sitting on your best friend’s front porch. She tells you and your other friends how the night before she tried to start watching a new series, but stopped on the third episode. When you ask her why, she’ll tell you that in that episode two girls kissed one another and she was so disgusted she had to turn it off. Everyone else laughs, but you go home and watch the entire series in one night. You decide against telling anyone about it. You are fourteen and on an old futon in a basement. You click shuffle and try to find any song that will make you feel less nervous. You’re not even sure what you

On a shelf next to my bed sit the fragmented hearts of everyone who's ever had the bad sense to be with me. I wouldn't say I meant to collect them there. They are just casualties, fallen to the wayside after midnight encounters and rushed early mornings. Most nights, as I close my eyes, I hardly take notice of their rhythms. Yet, for weeks they have begged me to remember. I have reached out, gingerly touching the edges of the shelf, only to shake my head and turn away. I should learn from my mistakes, but I push the thoughts down. The past is the past, and I know better now than to touch it. There's a piece of tonight's first date nestled bet

I should have known better than to go back to my hometown. Halloween had always been my favorite holiday, but being confronted with those I had bonded with in high school but since forgotten about was more terrifying than any haunted house. I wasn’t surprised when I approached the decorated old barn and recognized the woman collecting tickets. I almost wasn’t even surprised when, disgusted at my attempt at idle conversation, she flashed the knife within her jacket pocket and reminded me that sometimes politeness wasn’t a good enough reason to start speaking to someone you don’t know anymore. I suppose I could claim tha

As puck and stick met and collided, the skate on the ice descended and glided onward toward the goal. Sweat dripped down the player’s brow, and as he realized his time to score was now, he raced toward the goal. Each team member had an astonished face, and their fear vanished without a trace as their teammate found the goal. The crowd jumped up, whistled, shouted, and high fived each other as they no longer doubted the team could score a goal. Each person who plays life’s game cannot afford to pass or give up a once in a lifetime shot because they’re afraid of the goal.

He seems offended when I do not say goodbye, yet turns away with no promise of another meeting. I cry out, ask him to stay. He puts his arm around my shoulder on the wooded path, and never asks to know anything. So I tell him all my deepest secrets. He reminds me how the wind chills us to the bone, and half expects me   to keep him warm against my chest. But there is no heat left inside.