An Open Life

I had been foolish, once again, to let my heart be torn open by men. My mother had warned me about this once. Strict, autocratic, with a tinge of neuroticism dyed into her every nerve, she had ruled over my household with an iron fist. No wonder – she had escaped communist China with her…

Tantra

                I write with you still on the tip of my fingers … Table scraps of memories and all the places you bring me by the slight twitch and dip of your muscles I know nothing like your brand of love and thrust Not lust, But divinity And…

Cameo

it will take me all of six seconds to realize that it’s you this time grocery cart ghosting forward without my grip to steer it until there are peaches everywhere supermarket stained yellow-pink fluorescent blush rushing against a current of unsuspecting customers the sound of each bruise forming with a thud against the floor’s tile…

In Sickness and in Health: A Hypochondriac’s Guide to Love

You can usually hear me coming from down the hall because my bag announces my arrival with its various contents rattling inside.On the menu, I have Excedrin, Advil, and Ibuprofen in preparation for any strain of headache or migraine that decides to abruptly ruin my day. I also have an array of vitamins: from Vitamin…

Send In The Clowns: The Power Of Makeup

I love makeup. There, I said it. Taking the time to do my makeup—concealer, foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, brows— is a large part of my morning (and self-care) routine. Now, as feminists, we know that makeup should be applied out of choice, rather than obligation to society and/or our significant others–but I love it. I love…