the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Category: miscellaneous (page 7 of 16)

monica thinking

“I can’t wait to go to sleep at night.”

Monica doesn’t know how to explain to her husband why she craves her unconscious. She doesn’t know when it went to sleep in the first place.

Why he can’t hear it.

When Monica sleeps, the sky turns magenta with swishes of blue. It isn’t a blue she can quite describe. It’s a mix of your eyes and the sapphire ring her husband bought her for their third anniversary.

You wouldn’t have bought her anything like that, you aren’t that sort of person. Continue reading

monica’s trip

Monica’s been thinking about falling again. Some people refer to it as a jump.

Monica believes that falling sounds much more graceful. Besides, who jumps asleep?

When Monica falls, she widens her arms and turns her head.

He had a similar grace to thunder. Long lightning limbs. Every time they touched she saw silver-blue.

It didn’t remind her of how you float. How you drift through the breeze stuffing pockets full of clouds. She once drew how you move in liquid gold ink across handmade paper.

She kept it.

Monica dreams in color. The first time she saw you, you were wearing an indigo shirt with violet stitches. Her eyes reminded you of the inside of an oyster shell you discovered on Sandringham Beach. Continue reading

addiction’s arrival

addiction’s arrival

The day of our first picnic we eat half of it on the A train while three kids breakdance and we wish for a dollar in our pocket when they ask for a tip. You open a bowl of sweet pineapple and feed me with your left hand. I think of the night before when you commented how, “Your fingertips flutter when you first drift away. That’s how I know you’re asleep.”

We bought sour dough baguettes with peppery Croatian olive oil and gooey Italian balsamic that we gobbled with creamy Irish cheddar cheese, tang-ing our tongues and filling our bellies. The girl that sold us the Grand Central delights put my change down hard enough on the counter to remind me that some people still have to work Sundays.

A week ago there may have been beer or wine but that was after our knees skinned the last time you decided to never touch it again. Five days ago.

The morning of the first night we spend apart the sky is magenta orange when the town car picks me up. You travel 18 flights down to escort me out. It’s the first time I say I’ll straighten out in two months.

Before you, addiction came to erase all of what I did not want to recall and could never grow to accept.

The only thing I am truly addicted to since your arrival, is you.

applicable metaphor

Our horizon residence forfeited to sunrise. I knew once it was bright enough, I would never see him again.

I curled my toes in the sand. I swayed to the left, to the right – slowly. He couldn’t see me in the darkness.

He still knew I was listening. Continue reading

My husband is a heroin addicted felon who tried to rob me on our second date.

It was love at first sight.

Melody Madison has been talking about us again. My sister has a friend who has a friend who drank too much wine last week at Melody’s lake cottage.

And they started talking about us all over.

“He slept on my couch once. He’s homeless.”

“I know things about her, but they are so terrible. I can’t say them out loud.” Continue reading

Older posts Newer posts
Content Protected Using Blog Protector By: PcDrome.