All Posts By Elizabeth Kirkpatrick Vrenios

Every Other Thursday

I we meet, and I dash across the room at his knock to open and feel the heat of his body engulf me like a blaze in my own galaxy. He runs...

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Frida,Black Dove

Burn this house, Burn it blue Sad one, Sad one Sad One, Guitar, seeking fire, like a hunger motor sings of the broken body, steel...

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My Lover Does Not Deserve Black

I wear scarlet to his funeral, a beautiful floor-length affair with sleeves that flick the air like flames, a splash of red electricity. I...

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