Save vs Tropes
Novels often feel like campaigns now— high highs and low lows. Blame D&D for that, maybe? Every moment either life-or-death or tavern banter. Subtlety doesn’t earn XP.…

Poet in Prague, Midwest-born, fluent in reinvention. Living with stage IV lung cancer and too many unread books. Writing with love and uncertainty—chasing meaning and the everyday beauty that survives
Novels often feel like campaigns now— high highs and low lows. Blame D&D for that, maybe? Every moment either life-or-death or tavern banter. Subtlety doesn’t earn XP.…
We promised to share the weight, so I carried the groceries and the grief. I took your name, and the calls, and the questions no parent should have to answer.…
You are not a burden. You are tired— not broken. You are in need— not too much. You are still here— That is triumph.…
We ran for the running, chased nothing, won joy. Grass-stained knees Popsicle tongues Palms full of gravel and glory. I was a mom-shaped kid— barefoot, loud, rebecome. And you— you…
I was a mother. I was a wife. I was— —I was The door clicks shut— and I’m breathless air, a question unasked, unformed. The street rings under unmoored…
In that fractured hour, time cracked like a bone, breath split sharp between throat and bone— each swell a surge, dragging me under, muscles clenched like fists, knuckles white, tight,…