Freshly Dusted

UnfaithfulBy Asche Keegan  It’s not you; it’s me. You were free falling to my misdirections, Left weakened by all my insipid inflections. Now our hearts rend asunder, bleeding words pink But there’s no use crying over spilled ink. I could list every reason I’m glad to depart, Citing domestic distress or affairs of the heart. Question none of these reasons, this much I...

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Bottled UpBy Asche Keegan “You might as well come in,” I say. “I’ve thought about every possible ramification of your coming, and I’ve determined I can no longer deny your existence outside my door. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t inviting in a ghost. Not that those exist, of course, but I’m sure you know what I mean.” He coughs, stooping in and...

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