Tag Archives: Angela Yoon

Open Heart Surgery

Tomorrow we will cut open our chests to memorize the anatomy of heartbreak. To measure the cracks tattooed onto our bones, whiter than our last winter. We will decipher the language of cells, how they multiply by millions but our … Continue reading

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Misnomer

Call me the eighth dwarf because my lips never sinned like yours. Midnight tastes like the gin that never tickled my tongue or the cigar that never tugged my lungs like yours. You sing anthems while I sing prayers but … Continue reading

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History of Autumn

Autumn tastes like midnight blackouts when you don’t know how or when to navigate the waters between history and future. You’re stuck in the palms of the present as you pick scabs off trees like chipped paint. The waters swallow … Continue reading

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Crescendo

A toast to the girl who forgot the way syllables rolled across taste buds. Whose lips are cracked but glued together into a map of broken things. Whose tongue is bruised black & blue from a mouthful of overripe wishes, … Continue reading

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Story of Solitude

The girl’s got too many secrets tattooed onto her fingers, hands burnt from touching people who never wanted her. She wonders if the hands will one day melt into three wishes or if they’ll fall into a single pile of … Continue reading

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Hibernation

A boy wonders if the snow on his porch will melt into moonlight. It kills the dirt for its insolence as it breathes a command to sleep. The boy is a paintbrush still without color streaked on like a label, … Continue reading

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