Skip to content

Search results for ‘Stephanie Cressler’

Reflection

by Stephanie Cressler Folded on my Nana’s left thigh, back pressed into her breasts, my face lightens as my Nana outlines my features with her non acrylic, ruby red nails. As she divides my nose and swipes across my mustache line, I smell the polish solvents and feel calcium thickening her round filed nails. I close my eyes when she swoops up my cheekbones, around the frame of my face, to glide back down each eye, balancing her elongated fingers on their tips. Midway through my second eye, my Nana’s… Read more Reflection

Words

by Stephanie Cressler Head down, fingers typing, fingers swiping, eyes captured, mouth closed, not talking. Communication hindered when you rather text than talk to the real-life human next to you, you call friend. When ‘how are you?’ becomes ‘how r u?’, u mght ms the mng, the purpose, the point of what is being said. Don’t live, going through the motions, (a motion in itself), you aren’t a mirror, don’t reflect what the world does. You are a real-life human with a head to think, fingers to hold, eyes to… Read more Words

Fortified

by Stephanie Cresseler I reach to touch you, to let you know I’m here for you, but the white dormitory cement wall is too dense for my hand to pass through, yet so thin I hear like it’s paper. I hear the handle stretch and door creak, pressed closed until it clicks. You climb on top of your ledge of a bed, the covers, a muted rustle. My eyelids droop close, barricading my sense of sight. But my ears protest, always working diligently into the night until the lights inside… Read more Fortified