The Cemetery Of Buried Feelings

I would pretend to be sleeping when he flipped on the light in my room. He would loom over me until my eyes opened. The walls would seem to lean in. Fear would distort my breathing. If I tried to scoot away, he would grab me by the arm and drag me back and crack me across the face with the flat of his hand. He was buried on a cold Sunday next to my mother. Some thirty people, mostly family, attended. It began to snow as stood at the graveside. He had finally found a solution to his loneliness.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

You Took The Sunshine When You Left

My world consisted of captivating sunshine, the kind that seeps into your skin and leaves your soul hopeful. Fresh mountain air, fresh rain on the pavement where my glory days still reign. The leaving hurt. The remnants of you mark my eyes with devastating longing. The sun went into hiding and the blue birds no longer flutter past my window. Leaving hurt. I no longer see the serenity of tomorrow in a golden haze, but dark. Destined for loneliness. The hope of loving you has become yet another long lost dream that the sandman refuses to leave at my door.

From Guest Contributor Courtney Alvarez

Courtney is a student at Pikes Peak Community College who loves writing, reading, and photography.

The Price Of Love

The ozone scent of the ocean reminds me how much I have sacrificed to be here: friends, family, home, heritage.

Was it worth it? Most days, yes, but on black days – every step painful – I find myself back before the water.

Mother warned me. But I knew better. “You don’t choose who you fall for.”

“Mark my words, no good came of such a union.”

I brushed it aside – another of her fables.

He is a devoted husband, but he cannot bridge the loneliness.

I lose myself in the roaring of the waves: a world I can no longer enter.

From Guest Contributor Iqbal Hussain

Her Sacred Space

Sammy was buried in the garden, behind a shed. Rose stepped daily over a trail meandering between overgrown shrubs to get there.

She told Sammy how dearly she missed him. How her life lacked happiness, excepting visits from grandchildren.

They would’ve delighted seeing him. But it was different for them. They lived elsewhere in town. Their lives filled with interests young people sought.

Only when Rose died did her grandchildren realize her loneliness. Close to the burial ground, hidden under debris, they uncovered a stash of cigarette ends.

Undoubtedly saturated with the tears she shed for her beloved Chihuahua, Sammy.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.