Elizabeth Bohnhorst

Now, you remember the minute graces— her, waist deep, palming figure eights on the lake’s surface, infinities in the sky’s reflection. Funny you could not love fully until she was gone. Could not even touch her face until it slackened, cooled. You think differently now and too late.

Heidi, a 27-year-old fitness trainer, loved the rain, even though it made her feel lonelier than usual. Loneliness was a bittersweet emotion for Heidi: she was desperate to be loved and to love in return, but she loved the freedom to fantasize about her dream life, her dream home, her

After I attended an in-patient eating disorder program,“La Ventana,” in Santa Monica,* I knew I wanted to move out to L.A. I was desperate for the warmth–it felt like an endless hug–and the Pacific’s huge slabs of crystalline rock formations skirting the shoreline. My friend

We have a tray, a pot of coffee, and a muffin. This is the moment, When on thing pours itself into another: Our backyard stored in shadows. An autumn planet bending ice Into an inevitable light. Your childhood was years ago. There is No trail back to it. There is

It only took a semester and a half before I dropped out of Michigan State University. First, I wanted to move out of the Abbott Hall, the dormitory reserved for students in the Arts and Letter's, by mid-semester. "An apartment. Like a campus apartment." I explained

A few days ago my partner, Andrew, helped me set up this blog. I'd had one those nail-biting nights of inspiration: rants, stories, and poems licking-their lips like caged feigns, ready to spread out in the sunshine of a blank page. But it was four a.m. I