Sam Eliza Green
Bio
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
Achievements (1)
Stories (124/0)
A Letter to Almost
Should I start with the birds? The seagulls that are really just gulls or so you’d remind me the last time we met? Or the Rufous that flitted around your yard this summer while you gardened and I played with the stray orange cat? How do you track something with so many beginnings?
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Humans
Peach Daisies
He used to give me peach daisies. I told him I hated flowers, but he'd pick one for me every Monday on our walk home from school, stow it in my palm and run ahead before I could give it back. It would end up on the ground, the petals smashed by bike tracks and roller blades of the next-door neighbors. When we stood on the porch of our brick farmhouse, he’d look at my empty hand in disappointment.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Fiction
Feed the Wolves
Tonight, my heartsore sister, we must remember to feed the wolves. Bitter and sick of starvation, they will hunt us like the earth ravaged its reckless. Un-name your rabbits. Thank them for comfort in the bleak and fortune of their swift feet. Each night endured requires sacrifice—this is yours. We, the restless, must learn to release ourselves from solace. Turbulence will haunt you long after day breaks. I will be here to soothe the pain.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Fiction
- Top Story - July 2021