She Didn't Bleed

Pip hated the sheets where her lover had left her.
They smelled like Joanna, they lay just like her on top of Pip's petite form: light and incidental, like a garment one only felt when they moved.
And they were beautiful to look at with their light blue gauziness and tiny embroidered white pansies all around the edges. Just like the pansies Joanna wore in her hair every single day, despite Portland's seemingly constant rain.

Pip stared spitefully at the baking orange bricks of the outer window sill. Of course it would be sunny the morning she lost three years, two family Christmases, and one more attempt at happiness.

For any who may care to know...

...I have begun a blog specifically designed to pertain to my up-and-coming move to New York.

Please to follow if you so desire.

http://thegiftofbeingalone.blogspot.com

Spite

Vengeance
Why so typical?
Humanity, so hubristic
And yet so pathetic.

God's wrath,
Not our own,
Solely justifiable,
Painted covetous red.

Shame
Bane of lost control,
Poison in the Community
Well.

Death
For plants,
Animals,
People.

Commencement

While I'm not sure just yet what I'm going to title this new endeavor, I'm intending on starting a new blog.
Beginning today, January 1st, its purpose is to document my journeying and rabble-rousing during this auspicious and pivotal year: my twenty-fifth.
I'll be turning twenty-four in less than a month and then I'll be rocketing into my quarter of a century.

I simply can't wait.