Quick! Someone go back in time and ask Michael Knowles to prom so he can stop being a butthurt know-it-all and complaining about proactive women for the rest of his life.

In case of fire, break glass.

Darkness. The gentle hum of a fan. Two bodies, barely recognizable under the sheets, save for the light glow of the moon intruding under and over the curtains.

There’s some shuffling as she rolls over to face his left ear. First a few quiet breaths, then she inhales and whispers, “I love you.”

It was in that moment staring up into the darkness that a choice had to be made. The memories of the last three years passed through his mind like a freight train through the plains.

The walls had come down and so began the systematic dismantling of his very soul. She did it quietly, but barbaric, like an anachronistic surgeon. It wasn’t the same assassin, but the same glare in her eye.

It took him time to even get to the point of opening up to anyone again, let alone trusting them, let alone loving them.

Yet, with all of the courage he could muster, he turned back and said, “I love you too.”

With that, the demolition began again, to lay waste to every brick he salvaged. Piece by piece, every screw removed. Put aside for her to look at and admire like trophies. Fawning over her own bloody work.

the garden


but unloved.

left unexplained.

a shifting plate.

instant earthquake.

finally find a flower

amongst weeds

but not for me.

someday when

you can’t find

the sun,

you’ll realize

i was a fantastic