Sam Eliza Green
Bio
Writer, wanderer, wild at heart. Sagas, poems, novels. Stay a while. There’s a place for you here.
Stories (169)
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Organ Tender. Top Story - June 2023.
There is a nook between my mattress and the wall. Some nights, I take out my brain and hide it there so I can sleep. Some mornings, I leave it for the dogs to find and fight over, still a better existence than residing in my head.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Poets
New Shades of Red
I hope you never learn why I hide scissors in my closet or how the word "family" still stings after all these years. I find peace because you're not in my dreams—a valley plagued only by fears ever since I first murmured that one prayer. My soul to take.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Poets
Root a While
No, I can’t tell you what it’s like being a local because even my hometown feels foreign. Yet, so easily I can recount driving southbound on a one lane highway next to a sick dog who just wants to be held, shedding filthy blankets into the gas station bin like layers of our own skin, eager for warmth.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Poets
Homesick
If walls could talk, and we do, I would confess my deepest secrets. It's been so long since you've held me that abandonment haunts my every corner. Remember, we were together through thin and thinner until we weren't? You fled the nest, and I stayed because it's all I'm good for. Was the sunshine medicine for your soul like you had hoped? I only really glimpse it through a crack there in the window. But almost every day now, I wish I could follow you.
By Sam Eliza Green3 years ago in Fiction
