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Sunflower, by Lauren Schaumburg

Freckles dappling skin, how long can you lie in the sunshine before the burn comes to lay waste to your flesh? How long can you stand to live like this, halcyon fantasy, running, running, always running from the hurt, I’ll deal with it another day, don’t your calves ache with the strain? Little anxious rabbit boy, find quiet ease in the croon of a lover’s tongue. Find a place to sleep between the crevasses of a war-torn boy’s ribcage, find shelter in the dip of his collarbone, in the cupid’s bow of his lips. For so long you were lost in the hypoxia of a hollow, hollow heart, spoiled honey filling your lungs. He asked you once through clenched teeth and spittle spray and rough grip of your arm, so small, lithe and delicate like a willow branch, if you’d be happy like this, if you’d be content to roam the world lonely like a living ghost, because boys should not kiss other boys, and therefore there was no one for you to kiss at all. But when you find the curvature of another man’s hip bones with your fingers, then you allow your prey-heart to rest, and believe perhaps this will be okay. This will be okay, to lie here in the passion pit of a misfit love, a moment of rest in between running, running, running, from something to which you cannot even put a proper name.

Painting of landscape city on water
Miami Skyline, by Timothy F Phillips


Lauren Schaumburg has been writing stories since she was small and dreams of one day seeing her work published to be enjoyed by readers far and wide. She especially loves to write about queer romance and drama and wants those stories that are so often forgotten to be cherished by readers from all over who might find inspiration in her work. This is her debut poetry publication.


Timothy F Phillipsis considered to be a naïve artist with a splash of realism. Occasionally he frames his vision of the artwork with bright foliage through which the skies glimmer and the moons glow in and evening hue. Timothy does not conceive his work only as a beautiful object in itself, nor does he present the "realities" of the exterior world in his beautiful abodes, skylines, and riverbanks with colorful little boats afloat; instead, he expresses the perceptions born of his own meditational self-therapy which he has done since he was just a child of 10, drawing on the sidewalks of his little hometown of Coudersport, Pennsylvania.


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