Cassette A.

Writing feelings down makes me feel okay, sometimes. :))

Writings

Followers

Following

Cassette A.

Writing feelings down makes me feel okay, sometimes. :))

Writings

Followers

Following

Locker 304

Cassette A.

1 min read

At 8:03, the hallway buzzed with sleep and whispers,

The girl stood quiet, third locker from the right,

A finger hooked on cold metal—

she turned the dial,

and there it was.

Folded sharp, like spite tucked into paper,

Edges crinkled, corner smudged with someone’s thumb,

She knew that smell—cheap perfume,

The kind they wore when they played pretend.

The letter was chaos.

Purple gel ink in loopy h...

Poetry

His Hands

Cassette A.

1 min read

He molds me from clay—

soft, compliant,

stripping the grit from my edges

like it was never meant to be there.

He smooths my laughter

into silence,

carves my spine

until it forgets how to stand.

My fire—

quenched beneath his vision

of beauty.

I watch myself vanish

under every perfect touch.

And I let him.

Because he calls it love....

Poetry

He Always Makes Them Sad

Cassette A.

2 min read

I was just drawing. Just crayons and stars.

In the hall where the light from the kitchen leaks far.

I wasn’t spying. I didn’t mean to—

But Mom’s voice cracked, and I heard it slip through.

“It’s not his fault,” she whispered, low,

“He needs help, not hate—he’s got nowhere to go.”

And Dad—his voice was rough like the floor,

Said, “What about her? She’s six, she needs more.”

I hugged my knees and ...

Poetry

Things That Come Undone

Cassette A.

1 min read

We met like storms—

not slowly, but all at once,

the kind of love that sets fire to bone

and makes saints of sinners.

You touched me and I unraveled,

like a shoelace pulled too tight,

finally given slack—

finally free

or maybe finally ruined.

I used to laugh at love songs.

Then you looked at me

like I was the only language

you’d ever learned to speak.

And God, I believed you.

I carved your name

i...

Poetry

The Mirror Didn’t Lie

Cassette A.

1 min read

The vase tipped over—just water,

just petals spilled like a lazy yawn of spring.

But their eyes sharpened like broken glass.

“What did you do?”

A whisper with venom,

like my hands were knives

and not just clumsy.

I got straight A’s the next day.

No one clapped.

But when I tripped on the stage

they carved it in stone.

I swallowed my pride like acid

and smiled like it didn’t burn.

“What did you do?...

Poetry

A Gallon Will Do

Cassette A.

1 min read

I need the gallon.

The white one. With the cap that hisses.

It knows. It understands.

Not a cloth, not soap,

not water that lies and leaves it behind.

I need to peel it out. Strip it. Boil it. Burn it.

It’s in the corners.

In the walls.

In me.

I watched it happen.

I let it happen.

I smiled—why did I smile?

I can still smell it.

Hear it hum beneath the tiles.

It hums my name now.

The jug will ...

Poetry

The Dam

Cassette A.

1 min read

the dam broke

in silence—

no scream,

just salt.

i learned

grief has a taste

and it’s mine.

all these years

i held it

like breath.

today,

it slipped

and called itself

me....

I Crave, Therefore I Burn

Cassette A.

1 min read

If desires are flames,

then I am a wildfire—

unholy, uncontained.

You lit a spark

and now the world burns

with the shape of you.

I do not want gently.

I do not long politely.

I crave.

With teeth and trembling hands,

with sleepless hours and stolen glances,

with a hunger that stains my ribs

and leaves no room for breath.

You live behind my eyelids now—

ghosting every blink,

haunting every silence...

Poetry

Things I’ll Never Say

Cassette A.

1 min read

It started with fire,

laughter in the dark,

the rush of touch,

the thrill, the spark.

Now days just blur —

same kiss, same bed.

We talk, we laugh,

but I feel half-dead.

The sex is soft,

but never deep.

More habit now

than losing sleep.

You’re kind, you’re safe,

you give me all —

a steady hand

so I don’t fall.

But when I look at you,

I can’t define

if it’s love

or just a line.

And this —

this ...

Poetry

The Joke’s On Me

Cassette A.

1 min read

I laugh loud, the room believes,

Though my joy is make-believe.

Clown by choice, or by demand?

Even I don’t understand....

Poetry