horrors
Have
Hands
Hands have
Highs—-
Hightower-clock
Hands
Halt,
Hating
Histories
Housing
Hidden
Horrors,
How hard hangovers hit,
High hot heaving;
Hardly hanging
Howl, hum, hug
Huddle hopefully
Halcyon Hallucinations,
Hovering high.
About the Creator
Melissa Ingoldsby
I am a published author on Patheos.
I am Bexley is published by Resurgence Novels here.
The Half Paper Moon is available on Golden Storyline Books for Kindle.
My novella Carnivorous is to be published by Eukalypto soon! Coming soon
Keep reading
More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dear Jane
Dear Jane, It must be wishful thinking that I had a dream of you last night in which you had come to visit me and were staying at my estate. My wife was begrudgingly accepting of this, yet still, you stayed. As you helped us put new brought in china dinnerware away, I realized they were all cracked and broken.
By Melissa Ingoldsbyabout a year ago in Poets
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
Great words in the form of a stiletto sis
I love the way you made the line “How hard hangovers hit” hit so HARD! Heckin’ clever
Nice❤️
tongue twisting but good!