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Indigo Tuesday

Indigo Tuesday

Goodbye, Blue Monday. Hello, Indigo Tuesday. Positivity and connection through poetry and short stories. Learning to be human.

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    Tag: love

    hungry heart

    Caught on the exhale, hungry heart and empty lungs, lips tangled together you filled me with air 

    January 23, 2019January 23, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    These walls

    These walls are high but poorly built. The right brick crumbling sends it tumbling. 

    January 18, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    The second boy who loved me

    The second time a boy told me he loved me I was 13.“I love u,” my phone buzzed, my head buzzed, New feelings, no end.  “Love u 2,” I responded,… Read more “The second boy who loved me”

    January 16, 2019January 16, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    April 4, 2015

    Alternately titled: journal of a girl who has yet to find her way I don’t want to have already experienced the last good day. I can feel the… Read more “April 4, 2015”

    January 15, 2019January 15, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    The epiphany

    I curled my leaves and starved myself to the root to deny the pain of blooming, to pollute. and what I found  was that the sun didn’t… Read more “The epiphany”

    January 14, 2019January 15, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    Twine

    You dropped out of a tree into my path, a shiny acorn, and I, not yet a sapling. How could I have known then how our branches were destined to grow together? 

    January 1, 2019January 6, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    Crumbs of you

    like the howling ache of the last bite, yearning, your pillow–cold– my fingers sweep for crumbs of you between my sheets. 

    January 1, 2019January 6, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    3:24 a.m.

    They say if you have trouble sleeping it’s because someone’s thinking of you. I’m sorry for those restless nights. 

    December 23, 2018January 6, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    centered

    it’s not the weight of your body that pins me to earth it’s the beat of your heart i count my breaths by 

    November 30, 2018January 6, 2019 by Allyson Morin

    August Tenth

    I didn’t care much for the sunset, right here, in the old churchyard with plums rotting at our feet. The pregnant trees bowed to us, sticky, alcoholic; a drunken, golden nest. Right here, perched… Read more “August Tenth”

    November 26, 2018January 6, 2019 by Allyson Morin
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