Author Archives: tehlorkay

About tehlorkay

writer of poems and longer things. restless wanderer of small-town streets. unabashed seeker of the true world.

love in the borderlands

you’re sleeping. hips a mountain range; spine a wall. I am a border city and you are ‘construction  imminent’ and we are decimating too gradually to call it loss. the desert wind stirs my bones. were it not for the anchors – I’d … Continue reading

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the morning after – on the power of names and next steps.

Last night, I let my heart break, and I drowned in it. I asked my ceiling why. I snuck into my daughter’s room as she slept and wondered what the world could see to hate in her, enough that they would … Continue reading

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wrapped up tight

there’s a haze at your edges tonight. I want to crawl inside it until the world is blurry and nothing has the same name, until the relentless force of weightless things has changed the shape of what I know. what I … Continue reading

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reflections on rainy streets

I’m singing, like a lost child’s tune, the sweetness it carries, the good it can’t do. and I say: please, not yet. and I say: we’re not through. and I love you, yes –  but the vultures are scouting this … Continue reading

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red-mouth secrets

I caught the scent of leaving like red staining a hunting trail. behind, screams that burned silent. ahead, a sky not meant for me. standing on a knifepoint – you say the name that stops the bleeding. stinging palms hold … Continue reading

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don’t look down

a cliffside, a winter sun, you call it dancing but it feels like a dare. what does it mean, the edge in your eyes? let’s just say: we used to know we preferred solid ground. the past is a movie … Continue reading

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fuel like fire

there’s nothing left of what was. just handfuls now, almost-dust and never-enough. you hide them in boxes labeled “things I could love” only to bury them when winter comes. the steel-hard ground gives no comfort or thanks, instead demanding tribute … Continue reading

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