We live in a chicken coop:just enough holes to see the light,just enough room to make us staywithin prison walls — no real windows —all too high up, all too small.
Yosemite.
When you give your heart to a boy, you can only hope that he treats it well, and doesn’t break it…
She smelled of sweat, petrol and lavender. Her husband couldn’t resist this heady mix. She smelled like a woman getting home after a long day’s work, like a woman who mistakenly rolled her car window down while she sat in the jammiest of traffics on the NH8.
These were the top 10 stories published by Just Poems; you can also dive into yearly archives: 2013, 2014.