http://slow.writerscafe.org/RachelHumphreys The original writings of author Rachel en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776170426 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15  Sweat makes my old tee shirt stick to my back on this god-awfulmorning in July. I shift around on my park bench in the shade atWashington Square Park, using yesterday's news to fan my neck andgrab at the cotton fabric, peel it off my skin. When I let go it onlysticks right back, but I'.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/794290/   A crescent moon rose in the midnight sky. It cast a pale light overmy sparsely furnished bedroom, where we laid tangled in thin cottonsheets, our bodies effortlessly intertwined. The gentle chirp ofsummertime crickets and the sound of our simple kissing were all thatpermeated the quie.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/794289/ sometimesI noticed. whenyou looked at medifferentthan all the other timeswhenyou held my gaze too                 too long              intensewhenyou looked somewhere else as I caug.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/779023/    "So if you're hearing this, it's probably because you think I'm an a*****e. But if you're from my mother's church, you think I'm a sinner. Or if you're a school administrator or teacher or something, you've pobably been shaking your head for a week telling yourself that I was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/422972/ mom called right as we popped the disk inand i told him, "wait! the previews are my favorite part!"one hour and 39 minutes laterwe shifted togetherand his chocolately tongue told my earwhy he enjoyed the credits http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/420247/ those who hold my fate do not disagreeonce polar jurors now easily swayedbut no one heard my  defendan'ts plea,all they care about is her razor blade no hero with this particular sword,or at least to society's concern"why'd she think to turn to that?&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/404713/ the floors are lonelythey remember a (late) nightof rhythm & bluesof dancing,(close) baby,my arms can't forgetthe delight of adorning your neckwhile your hands eased aroundmy swaying hips(our bodies careeningto a song written forour kiss) and darling, yes.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/398813/  tears grow stalelike bread or wineand my tongue no longer noticesa trace of salttrickling betweenclenched lips but each morning the sanguine sun risesand i,like the dampened shroudbehind the veil of venetian blindsdisregarding the calls and knocksor Mr. Confr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/397861/ I don't really like this poem, but I wrote it for an assignment at school. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/397455/  regret’s a b***h as I’m sureyou’ve discovered but we are unable to acceptcash, checks, or shameas collateralfor your wife (you’ll always be in debtfor that one). http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RachelHumphreys/397453/