lips brush my cold skin,
can't remember how to breathe---
my center warms first
About the Creator
Tina D. Lopez
A woman who writes to deal with hurt, mistakes--mine and others, and messy emotions. Telling my truth, from the heart, with no sugarcoating.
My book Love Ain’t No Friend of Mine is available on Amazon. https://a.co/d/6JYBmLH
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More stories from Tina D. Lopez and writers in Poets and other communities.
December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waiters’ lives—like Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steve’s dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
By Tina D. LopezExclusive • about a month ago
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound3 days ago in Humans
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