We were always meant to be there, and meet there, but instead of meant to end there we were always meant to leave there. You’re a last minute packer, for better or for worse. We abandoned our fridge completely full, left all our summer clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed. We … More Eden by Meghan Bennett
In late summer, New York City sunsets are pink and lavender and yellow and stretch out for miles, spanning the entire horizon, blanketing the whole island. Last year after late classes I’d walk to the pier and just stand for an hour and watch. Try to take a few pictures, but a camera can’t capture … More Your Sunrise by Meghan Bennett
It was the summer of impossible clouds. That’s something they don’t tell you about the apocalypse: it’s gorgeous. And slow. In all it took about a month and a half for the fires to reach Earth. In that final summer, even though we all knew the world was ending, we still went to work, we … More Clouds by Meghan Bennett
The foil began at the edges of your eyes.
I don’t know how it got there, or where it came from, if it’s organic or inorganic or even explainable by science but there it is, this gold crinkly stuff, stuck to the outsides of your eyes and slowly spreading down your cheeks, like golden tears, like a rash. Our classmates think it’s a fashion statement, a Nylon editorial imitation, but I follow you into the bathroom and watch you try to pick it off and you can’t, it’s like skin. … More Modern Deity by Meghan Bennett
“Museum of feelings? More like the museum of waiting.” -Christina Marini on the WONY Facebook page.
At the end of the tree-lined pathway looms a massive white building. The tree trunks are plastered with flyers, fluttering in the coastline breeze, the building name glinting off the paper in silver: THE MUSEUM OF WAITING. … More The Museum of Waiting by Meghan Bennett
I’ve been writing all over my hands lately. To do lists and doodles and lines of poems. The marks fade, and I add a new layer, then another, and another, until my hands are grey and my fingers cold and I’ve a Bic tattoo sleeve half up my arm.
Sometimes my hands are so covered I cannot read them. I wash my hands and scrub till the skin is red and shiny. I am speeding up the process of erasing you. … More Erasure by Meghan Bennett
a shower of glass
from the window
above us. … More Rain by Meghan Bennett
Inspired by Sarah Kay
The undeniable part of it is I’ve
lost you already.
I wake up in the middle of the night to phantom
fire alarms. … More I Didn’t Know These Parts of Us Were Flammable by Meghan Bennett
Take a pretty girl.Take a pretty girl and ignore the fraying edges, ignore the chipping porcelain. … More Norma Jeane, Why’d You Leave? by Meghan Bennett