Love Buried in the Sands of Time

Since when did cigarettes begin cluttering your hands I ponder aimlessly some nights while I undress?
How I still imagine her to be what she once was: a thing of beauty, a beautiful young girl whose innocence is still intact.
But the world has changed and tamed her.
Now her imagination has run dry and the beauty she once possessed is gone.
And so has the love I once felt for her.
Oh how departed are we—how the rain outside my window only reminds me of what you have become.
I used to look for you at the bottom of ravines, in mirrors, and on the top of mountains that you swore you one day would climb. 
I should know better for I only ever find you at the bottom of wine bottles.
But I fear I am no longer searching for you, but something that is dead and gone—for something that has left us to die.
Something that has spat in our faces, and yet I yearn for nothing else but to see it again.
I yearn to breathe the same breath she does, to taste her lips if not but for a moment, if not but for a day.
But then I remember that she is gone, buried somewhere in the sands of time.
Forced to wither, forced to die.
But my passion still burns for this young woman, who had died so long ago.
My heart still aches for her touch, but yet my memory cannot revive her; my memory cannot bring back what was lost in the sands of time.

Thomas Earl Dunn II


it had returned,
an emotion that had long dissolved
and only came back for small appearances

it erupted in her fingers
every time she replied to his messages
or picked up the phone to hear his voice

it burst on her face
with every mention of his name
or favorite hobby

it landed in her toes
with every extra bounce in her step

it made a permanent home in the cave of her abdomen
forcing the butterflies to fight for living space
whenever she heard his favorite song

Lauren Ingram

An Ode to Insomnia

in my body I could hear
playing something 
by The Beatles,

but all I could feel
was your bamboo
wallpaper on my face
like dead grass
on pavement.

It was hard to see you
with my head
my knees,

the floor hopscotching
my tyrannnic breath
of midnight
and homemade
pumpkin pie,

the sky
like a magic carpet,

but your shadow
could fill my bedroom
with the sneakiness of

and I knew
you would never leave.

Here comes the sun.

Carly Veverka


"As the sunsets,
The crickets chirp the sad songs,
But the moon peaks through,
It lights the sky like its brother,
Look into the vast sky,
You see that bright star,
Yes, that's me,
Don't forget me,
Don't cry for me,
I'm finally free."

La'Toria Mincy

Photo by Artotem. 

"Love Buried in the Sands of Time," © Thomas Dunn II, 2011
"Relapse," © Lauren Ingram, 2011
"An Ode to Insomnia," © Carly Veverka, 2011
"Free," © La'Toria Mincy, 2011