Jukebox Stories

I forget my name when your hands are on my hips— not in a holy way, but like a match forgets it was wood before the flame. You come in quiet, a storm learning how to whisper, & I’m all windows—open, rattling, daring the wind to break me. Love, you kiss like you’re stealing something. Like the world might end mid-mouth & we’d still owe it a sin. And what is want if not a crime we keep committing with gentler hands? I want...

Three months had passed since Lena had said goodbye to Arion. She focused on work as much as possible. Saw her friends sometimes, but nothing ever replaced him. She felt hollow without him. "Lonely" could never cover it. The only thing that kept her from the depths of depression was knowing that, wherever Arion was, he would be guaranteed a happy life, whether that bitch of a goddess liked it or not. "Lena?" She looked up...

Lena thought about the note Arion had left her as she stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade down her body. She washed her hair slowly, still savoring that morning-after tingle. She thought about what Arion had written about how long he would be with her and about this mysterious "creator" he'd mentioned. When Lena's hands reached her breasts, she massaged the body wash into them slowly in circular motions, la...