The Second Forty-Seventh

Nicole Easterwood

Blue eyes piercing me, and always, to his advantage, making the guilt of leaving even stronger than it would be otherwise. His eyes, their grasp, is what wills me to stay, and his wrists wielding the scars of previous bad nights anchor my feet. But, I can’t be held under such spells when all that matters—the nation’s safety—lies in my hands, and who am I to handle something so fragile so carelessly? Who am I to deny him of a…

It takes one person to save another's life. Listen. Pick up the phone. Show them that they are loved.

You Make Me Feel Less Alone

His hands are smooth,  

uncalloused,

as they touch my skin.

At the beginning of each

of my phalanges

lay thick calluses.

My thumbs,

and sometimes index fingers,

are torn up

and bleed from picking.

I can’t stop.

I’ve tried so many…

I started writing this last night at 4 A.M. I have no clue where it's going, but I am super excited to find out! It is written in verse. I've been doing that a lot lately. Maybe it will merge to be a collection of verse stories- who knows.

I can’t remember when

and if I ever had anything

worth anything at all.

Always sacrificing myself

for the wrong thing.

Always too far

in between.

Always too far away

from where I…

"Featherweight" is a new verse novel that I'm working on this month. I would love feedback. Thanks guys!

FEATHERWEIGHT…