Tatiana M.R. Johnson

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writer & artist

August 19, 2014 at 5:19pm

from across the street


there are bricks where you live

an arch at the door and the invisible people on the stoop

the ones who shout, and talk to the people inside them

the ones who i avoid contact with

you are there with them

fellowshipping in your own comfort, because you were once visible

and you feel the comfort in not being seen

July 28, 2014 at 4:31pm

for what feels like the end of the world




the disorder

in the very way you’re built

scares me real deep

yet you stick to my skin like

a hot night in a twin bed

on an old cotton fitted sheet


the want in you


the sad floating between your eyes

beckons me

with sickled fingers

you’re hurting so bad

so much so often


who can love like this?


an empty yearning

gliding through the universe

praying for your sanity



the heart sits on a bed of sandpaper

scraping shreds of its skin while it beats


what does it mean to be breathing?


your eyes ask

while we’re dancing in the rubble

of our civil disagreement

there is a bitterness on your lips

it tastes like eating an orange too close to it’s opening

and i feel as though you’re poison

coursing through the corpse parts of me


unable to find anything living to kill.




I saw you as human today

and the battle between us settled

the dust is clearing against my lips

I’m no longer thirsting for

a miracle

finding you present and aching

Your hands clench mine although

you’re four feet away

My tears betray themselves

I don’t feel the hurt.


Fear →

A short online story I wrote while I was living in California.