if yellow were a scent it would be this top note of sunshine the first to fade heart note something like basil base note clover, or cedar I forget how I learned this and I couldn’t say why some random facts took root still, it’s all my fault: these amber blooms were right here crinkly-velvety soft waiting to share their secrets if I’d only stopped to breathe them in
About the Author
Madeleine French tumbled into love with books as a young girl, and never looked back. You may find her in front of a sewing machine, behind a copy of Persuasion, or occasionally on Twitter, @maddiethinks. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetica Review, Paddler Press, Words & Whispers, Hidden Peak Press, West Trade Review, and elsewhere. She and her husband live in Florida and Virginia.
the deepest wounds are caused by those we thought loved us, but only used us instead;
those who wasted our time, our love, and our affection—
they say not to regret it, but i do;
wish i had spent the right attention on the people who were always going to be in my corner rather than waste all my devotion on people who didn't deserve it—
i know there's a lesson learned in every bridge burned, but now i'm just jaded; and i don't know if i can let people in. -linda m. crate
About the Author
Linda M. Crate's (she/her) works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of eleven poetry chapbooks, the latest of which is: fat & pretty (Dancing Girl Press, June 2022). She's also the author of the novella Mates (Alien Buddha Press, March 2022). She has published four full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020), and you will not control me (Cyberwit, March 2021).
I sit upon rocks at the edge of a cliff acquiring new wrinkles as you read.
My sorrow runs the risk of rhyme, the outright gifts of revery.
I know you’re hungry for happiness. I wish I had the cure.
See, I’m counting crows in willow trees and their feet keep walking over me.
About the Author
Frank William Finney is the author of The Folding of the Wings, as well as Songs of Insomnia. His work has been featured in Glacial Hills Review, Livina Press, The Metaworker, Spank the Carp, and elsewhere. Born and raised in Massachusetts, he taught literature at Thammasat University in Thailand from 1995 until 2022.