I never thought I’d still be breathing at 45, painted skulls on tiny coffins to distract my broken mind. But now I’ve tasted worth and felt confidence creeping up my spine. I know you had a lot of problems, always told me you were trying. And I have felt deep purple blood flow from […]
An excerpt from the poem “Wedged.” Can I still be my new self here, freshly fired girl of clay, or will their haunted silence crack me, rip my stitches into fray. You will experience more of this powerful poem of parental estrangement and escaping the cycle by Caity-Shea in February. Subscribe to get new posts by email.