Meniscus
Words pool at the edge of my lips, each alone an atom that means nothing. They haphazardly spill from my mouth, waterfall of thoughts every day, splashing onto those around me as easy as summer rain. Stay away from the edge, that last piece is mine, always think before you speak, and be better and be kind and be… But bond together they hold, form a bulging droplet leaked from my tongue that clings as my mouth parts. Stay and be mine always. Stay. Be mine. Always. A molecule of words longing to drip, clipped wings, slink by my teeth, through canine prison points but small mercy, they hold, meniscus strong. What would happen if they pour from me, this string of atom words, bleed from me freely, like how red flowed down my legs, swirled pink shower floor after childbirth. Three children, three times painted red thighs, flow, widely, burst, but no, these words stay, stay. If they leave my lips, I fear you, like all the others, would too.
Morgan Stone
Morgan Stone earned an MA from NYU in counseling, a BA from Tulane University in psychology, and a screenwriting certificate from the London Film Academy. Her days are spent counseling and being a mom of three. Her nights are filled with yoga, sips of whiskey, and above all else, writing. She has published poetry and fiction in “Sad Girl Diaries,” “Street Lit,” “P.S. I Love You,” “The Coil,” “Chalkboard Magazine,” “Lit Up,” and has three upcoming poetry publications in “Tofu Ink Arts Press.”
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