Natasha Collazo

Joined June 2021

206 stories

Bio

Selected Writer in Residency, Champagne France ---2026

The Diary of an emo Latina OUT NOW

https://a.co/d/0jYT7RR

Achievements (7)

Stories (206)

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On the edge of Lily Pads
Bug eyes wear a crown. A slimy kiss with no eyelids. Ribbit—or prince? My lips curve against the spell. He croaks in ‘almost’
By Natasha Collazo6 days ago in Poets
M a g g i e . Top Story - December 2025.
The scars on her wrists show she had lost control one time or another. Maggie’s mom gave her away at twelve, old enough to feel the brunt of abandonment, and to feast on rebellion.
By Natasha Collazo11 days ago in Fiction
Watchman’s Hour
Trumpets practice as the daydreamer dreams. The sleepwalkers walk. The still corpse rots. Altars glow, but not with urgency.
By Natasha Collazo11 days ago in Poets
Too deep for language
“I can’t imagine meeting someone who is the essence of my thoughts.”
By Natasha Collazo12 days ago in Poets
Water from the Rock
They said the desert would finish me, that the map would end here. CT scans are machinery for reason. To spot the clue.
By Natasha Collazo13 days ago in Poets
Beauty among Beast
Wintry hayloft glint— even the cold leans toward the child.
By Natasha Collazo16 days ago in Poets
Outage
When the grid goes out one tealight coaches me how to breathe the next breath.
By Natasha Collazo17 days ago in Poets
After the Fall
At first, the pain felt godless an error in creation, a cruel game of Monopoly. I searched it for meaning and found only absence.
By Natasha Collazo17 days ago in Poets
It’s Alive!. Top Story - November 2025.
After two years… she’s finally here. I’ve been waiting to share this piece of my heart with you all. My first ever published book is now live on Amazon and Kindle.
By Natasha Collazoabout a month ago in Chapters
Misfit Thanksgiving
Under one crooked roof we gather, a patchwork of tired pilgrims. The divorcee still learning how to fold her laundry again, for just herself.
By Natasha Collazo2 months ago in Poets
The Sound of Frost
lots of chirping—Florida doesn’t frost nor does it bite. The sound is the chorus of migration. A song of wanderlust. I wonder where they’ve been,
By Natasha Collazo2 months ago in Poets
Essay on Arrival
If we could all pull out the map that lead us to the selves we are today, what would that journey look like? I imagine mine filled with pit stops, some planned, and some accidental.
By Natasha Collazo2 months ago in Humans