Literature Hub

‘Wouldn’t life be easier if we were placed here on purpose?’ - the first thing Benedict has said all day. He’s a fan of the profound, the sort of man that likes to ask vague questions about existence and turn his back whilst you scramble for something interesting to say in return. He’s hunched over one of the glass jars I bought. A layer of soil fills most of the space, speckling the sides - I question his proportions, bringing over the small brush for clean up. Benedict is s

Loud washing machine; its spin is a shake of its head, disappointed in our enthusiasm. Our voices fight for conversation over the sound, meaningless topics searching for traction. The washing machine makes a mockery of gossip, the lack of thought that comes with giggling about celebrity news and people we liked in high-school. Some nights I want to climb inside, soapy water in my pores, scrub away lingering worry. Tonight I don’t feel the need, I’m safe and thoughtless with a

Maybes In the passenger side of a car I’m used to; safe in the familiar fabric, the radio presets, the repetitive memory. We chase the lights, my mindless thoughts painted in white lines and road signs. Stopped at a red. Beside us, a minivan - driver blending into raindrops on the window. Company vehicle; words printed on the side - a name I recognise, peeled and puckered. It doesn't belong to you - a name can't be owned. Though your face lives in the curves of the letters. T

In simple terms? The overwhelming decision to explode and wither, all in one night. Her hands around my wrists, neck, fingers on my waist. Hair falls on my cheek, my stomach, thigh. Black strands against pale skin. Studies the way my body rises. Muscles tense and flex, moved by chained breaths. Fingertips write unknown words on my skin. Unspoken communication. Woman to woman. I know you. I know how it feels. Just one night, right? We watched the moon together. Bared our souls