What if I don’t?
“And what of it?” he asked– what of the moments you can’t unclasp? Others hold on so tight don’t they? What is it about you? What is it you seem…
Essays and Poetry by Barbara Powell
“And what of it?” he asked– what of the moments you can’t unclasp? Others hold on so tight don’t they? What is it about you? What is it you seem…
OG post is over on Not Quite Sunday. Happy Day of Love. But remember, every day is an opportunity to love. Love yourself. Your friends. Your partner. Love strangers. It was…
The yellows in my living room drink up every once of sunlight that slips in though the windows. That’s why they are there, after all. The yellows and the purples…
I am naked standing in front of his camera as he repositions the tripod. Moments earlier, I was alone in my apartment draped in a bathrobe an old lover…
His name was Muller. And he told me I was fucking adorable. I was sitting at the bar, the way I love to when I want to write but my…