Take me away, Ambulance
by Shawn Scott Smith @luckycreature
On the drive home, I see the ambulance at the nursing home,
lights twirling in a dance of death and hope.
I arrive home and you quickly go to bed, avoiding me.
It’s too hard to tell you, to say the words,
that someone might be dying up the road.
I write short things and play pinball. @luckycreature on Bluesky/X
Puppy Love
by Steven Lemprière @stevenlempriere
A dog has entered my life; they’re a rescue and, like me, someone dumped them. She’s a bitch, and calling your name — another commonality — will see her bound in my direction. Nowadays, I’m easily amused. Another upside: Ellie’s house trained, and unlike you, she hasn’t shat on me.
Steven, a man of few words, often fifty, jumbles letters and life. X: @StevenLempriere, Bluesky: @stevenlempriere.bsky.social
Overthinker
by G. Lynn Brown @micromancemagazine
She thought. Too much. About everything. Mostly about him. His blue eyes, his crooked smile. One day, she told him her thoughts. About how much she loved him. And when he told her what he thought, that she shouldn’t think of him anymore, her thoughts dripped from her eyelashes.
G. Lynn Brown is a 2x Pushcart Prize nominee, writer, poet, editor, and a hopelessly hopeful romantic with a permanently cracked heart. X: @gail_lynn_eic
First
by Lisa Thornton @thorntonforreal
I climbed out my window to you and the rest of my life. Left the Social Distortion tapes and pink bedspread behind. You taught my heart how to hurt. We walked on the moonlit sidewalk holding sweaty hands until you chose her instead, in the middle of another starry night.
Lisa Thornton lives in Illinois near the tornado siren and the park with the baseball diamond.
@thorntonforreal.bluesky.social
Art Lit Club
by Melissa Flores Anderson @theirishmonths
A last-minute invite from the club pres, and I didn’t realize you would be there, too, in the backseat of her mom’s car, smelling of CK One. We sat in darkness, enveloped in plush red seats. You watching, listening, eating Red Vines. Me, breathless and too young for you.
Melissa Flores Anderson edits the Broken Hearts Literary Gallery and collaborates with Roi Fainéant Press. X and Bluesky: melissacuisine
For Better or Worse
by Tracie Adams @tracieadams1966
A beaded dress that weighed more than me, Great Danes in our bed, Sunday afternoon barbeques, chicken skin sizzling with chimichurri, positive pregnancy test, keyboard on the kitchen table, singing off pitch, unanswered calls, sleepless nights, lies, custody papers, moving boxes. It’s the dogs, your sisters, your mother I miss.
Tracie Adams, a retired educator and playwright, is the author of two memoirs, Our Lives in Pieces and Not Finished Yet, and the mom to four kids, six grands, and more animals than she can count. Bluesky @tracieadams X @1funnyfarmAdams Substack @tracieadams
Maybe You’re There, Hidden in the Pink House
by Johannah Simon
Ask her about the drawing. Force a smile when she explains it’s daddy. Ask where mommy is. Choke down your tears when she tells you mommy isn’t in the picture because she’s always at work. Hope one day she’ll understand the sacrifices you made for her.
Johannah Simon is a corporate schemer and professional dreamer. X @JohannahWrites Bsky @Johannah IG @JohannahCanWrite
Broken Hearts Gallery Literary 