http://slow.writerscafe.org/maiabach The original writings of author Rae en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776033157 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 They were always like this, but their mother did not acknowledge that. The only thing that was different when they were a kid was the fact that they did not talk about it. Jo took the letter in their hand, and started walking towards the front door of their soon to be ex-home. It felt like a break.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/2069162/ I will write for youevery timeyouplace each toe to heeland walk the tightropeof openness. Do not cough out your queerness; chew it up into succulent pieces andspit it on them. Do not choke up your femininity, your non-binary organism,your ungendered outline; you are yourself and I will hold that sel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1986103/ p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px 'Helvetica Neue'}You stopped and looked at melike a ghost of the horizonand that is when I felt like my skin was the sand of a soft sea,your hands like waves over theseashells and forgotten beach glass and a lost locket from someone's mot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1908402/ Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1907173/ To sit and think about who I am:18, female, queer, depressionanxietyfear,times whendrunk men felt entitled to meor times when coddling clouds were all I could seeand times I knew I was a victim(?)a survivor(?)which one?“not the decider”.Barely eating a piece of breadeach day by 13because.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1904679/ I was not supposed to knowwhy vines and ivy criticismsstrangled my body likean anaconda of voices sayingdon’t look at your stomach andkeep lying in the dirt andnurture a facial structurethat will bloom like a chrysanthemum instead of the bushels andshrubs you see in the wat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1898778/ I had an idea for myself and my life.It was a fantasy of tantalizing girlhood dreams, that somehow to live I must balance both sets of toes between the sidewalk and the street line, between recreational and addictive routines, between femininity, confident fragility, and hardass mannerisms. I though.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1871279/ I opened up a bookfor you butthat’s not what you bellowand i breathe inthe fabric of the sweatshirt of theplaces you’ve been andI feel my skin but it is likefeeling the entire oceanon my face and i wanted something for dinnerbut you only eat on tuesdays.I took a bath becauseyou dimmed me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1863896/ We drove across the interstate highway of Montana with lustful intent: intent on finding something, anything to shift the way our eyes saw the world, to shift what the feeling of getting older was doing to our blood. Coy stuck his head out the window, a joint in his hand and his hair leaping in bet.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1861378/ If I knew why, I'd tell you.I cannot watch myself sleepwhen my mind is awake andoutside of myself.I cannot watch myself react.Shameless is my name whenI stay up late and think about other people's desires of you.There is a door in the roomthat I will never open, because on the other side i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1860145/ We burnt each other on the hand with our cigarettes andyou left a mark directly below my thumb,the wound holding boundless life,toxins and flesh,visible vitalityin the way that it rested,a continuous sort of ache,similar to what youwere starting to become.You burnt my hand in desperation, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1860136/ What makes you feel alive?Do it. Do it again. Do it so many times that you can feel the marrow of your bones ache with emotion. I want you to understand something:This is all that you have. This one moment of clarity where the worldand who it tells you to be suspends in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1850180/ Her face covered up her bed sheet thoughts. To have her. To have her back. To have her there. To have her voice inside those bed sheet thoughts, in between her toes and theplanets and spatial interactions. To once again feel. To understand that to feel means  t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1825983/ I thought I saw your shadow today.It was elsewhere. Your shadow was a moth, flying upwards past my city window.  Your shadow turned to face my discovery, and looked down to see if I might be able to follow. I stayed in my bed with a pencil.I never stopped looking up, bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1825420/ I'm scared thatthe pit in my stomachis where I liveand that one dayyou'll live theretoo.You are as beautifuland spiritedas the fawnI see when I'm happy.I'm as darkas my stomach linings.I'm scared thatthe pit in my stomachis where I liveand that one dayyou'll live somewhere new. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1787061/ The streets felt like home because I was my only home and they were mean to me and I was mean to myselfI studied. We laughed with teeth out.The buildings sang. To say we did not feel was like saying we deserved to die. People said we deserved to die. But her n*****s were my femin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1756452/ "Why did you choose to love her?"They always asked. I loved how her slender fingers held a strawberry. I loved the playgrounds and templesshe built beneath our candlelit water. I loved how her laughter was my rain jacket. I loved her slick skin and people told me that I storm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1740967/ She rose up like a mountain through the paleness of my fixated breaths,through the cracks of each hot aired sigh that left my lungs and she touched them like a temple.My nerve endings understand this place in the way that a girl understands her first .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1702327/ I was someone who had no guiding idea of what life meant to meand whether or not I was unhappy was irrelevantbecause I wasand my friends were too when they sighed at night andI was never very happy, but that is irrelevant because my morning tears made of last night’s drink came fro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1633503/ When we broke upyou started calling things “gay” again. And, my dear,of all the simple birds in the sky, the mad ones and the purple colors, I stand before the gazeslike I stand before the back hall commen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1584803/ You could tell that she was sad by what she was wearing. Her chest was bleeding a black t-shirt with no patterned purpose,her jeans the kind of jeans that were a faded promise, rips in the wrong places of her kneecaps.Her midnight shoes lost canvas and tra.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1514976/ I think that she has a certain type of eyes. Her eyes like my eyes,in the way that my eyeslike her hair strands and visible laughsand visible ideas. I think that she could leave. She could fold up the corners of her own world's mapand leap across it,and I would still receiv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1509969/ I never really ever minded not remembering to ever mindbecause the body does not mindwhat brains and shames do mind and minding what you should not mind is like minding time that does not mind. I minded you, you minded me freeI minded what we were not to beI minded that you did.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1487431/ Things are okayAnd I am okayAnd that is okay. I went to school this morning,walking towards artificial warmth,surrounded by dark fogand lights protruding that fogand I felt the most peculiar sense of loving the air that I breathe. The taste was my new happy drug and the sights .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1471626/ I could see your magician's hatdirectly above your head,a signal that came and wentin a nearby dimension of truthful bodies. Its density of velvet black became more terrestrial with each flip of my blackened calendar until your eyes,Houdini-like in their substance dug something i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1453290/ I will never mind the wayThat you spoke of relative visions Of you and of meThat were as destined to beAs the sun and the moonBeing present in the same minute of sunken mid-afternoon. I will never mind your evanescence,Because the sky does not keep its word. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1443124/ There was never a time when I saw myself as anything other than the color that I saw on my speckled and serrated surface. I am a washed out piece of something that is not tangible when one is wading along a broken shoreline of wasted hair pins. I am not the breeze that flows as you are wal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1413054/ Of all the simple birds in the sky, mad ones and deep purple colors,I stand before gazes like I stand before compliments, and I try for her but effort becomes the idea that I am throwing plaster over my organs that govern my emotions.So for the time being I will no longer put effort in, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1327773/ Francesca, what a chiffon name, I fibbed through time that I did not care, swallowed by a realization that came, he was the only voice that was always there. Francesca, welding what should have been mine, it was blurred thinking he would always wait, I promised him that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1228554/ Black stars burned the night you left,did you take my diamonds alongwith my suspended love that you used scissors to cut the cords and send me towards the arctic because the arctic is far awaylike my brain when anyone says anything with a letter that is in your nameand your name .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1225288/ He liked Thai food and movies at 1:25 in the morning, he loved to watch my eyeshadow glimmer like a shiny peach, and the feeling of his shoes on the airport floor. He was preoccupied with the word paracosm, and the song Pinball Wizard and pinball, and the look of button down.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1221911/ So what if I would rather spend my nights on the couchlistening to thoughts that tell me I am better. Because maybe I am better than what they always whisperedmaybe I am meant to do things that encourage girls to cuttheir hairin a style that is goddamn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1218794/ I was always certain that I would never find something tocall my home until I met Coy Alexander and Starr. The day that I met themchanged the entire course of my plans, of who I am and what the world meant tome. I always thought about destiny. How destined I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1218542/ To tell someone the exact moment that I knew my breath was not just another waste of precious air would be a difficult thing to do. Life seems to hand you these moments, these exquisite fractures of time where the seconds  drip together, the lights brighten, and tastes tingle a bit mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1212771/ Nevada, 18-year-old daughter of a traveling rock star, runs away from her father in order to find her mother, and experience life in a way she's always dreamed- hitchhiking with strangers. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1212770/ We are all just products of moments.Late nights, sneaking through the summer woods in shorts soshort they make us feel like dazzling Hollywood and laughter sprinkled throughsips of whatever makes us stop caring about our eyeliner so much. Whatever makes us l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1212767/ I don’t think I’ve ever gone a dayFeeling like there was somewhere I could go.You’re just a sliver of the want to be gold,Or not quite the right sweater.  Because a tear is just another paper doll, And the only time I bre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/maiabach/1212764/