Sometimes I think the idea of romantic love

Is like the smell and then the taste of coffee
It draws you in with its tantalizing odor

And then when you actually have it in your hands

You find that not only is it addictive

And somewhat of an acquired taste

It can be really hard on your system
Karen Schindler

Snow buries my little girl boots and father’s casket but not his sins or secrets because those live in me, like worms.
His new wife’s kiss leaves a scarlet smudge on the frost, my cheek, the varnished wood.  At night I kneel and knead the jagged word, trembling in my hands.
Len Kuntz

“Flap your wings!” she yelled.
I stood there—focusing intently—denting in the hood of the treasured, faded red ’67 Mustang Fastback.
****
New pantyhose cut into my arms, attaching the branches she had torn from the Littleleaf tree.
****
Mama’s gonna be so pissed.
I jumped.
Lynn Kinsey

“You’re deaf,” she stated. He heard it as an accusation. It was true, too. At least partially, in his right ear, he was deaf, but Carl would never admit this truth to Aileen.
Certainly not when her statement sounded like an accusation.
“No I’m not,” was all he replied.
offbeatjim wittenberg

“If you’re gonna steal, you should only steal from the very best.”  That’s what my friend Shakespeare said.  That wasn’t his real name, of course.  Shakespeare was the genuine article, though.  Once, I saw him write a complete five-act comedy in 20 minutes.  It consisted of one, three-hour intermission. [...]