Miss Christine : Writing

listening feet

listening feet

A Poem by Miss Christine


back then a child looking down into an upturned mirror feet simply trusting and willing to avoid crushing exposed light bulbs to step con..
my voice, wide open, is a doorway

my voice, wide open, is a doorway

A Poem by Miss Christine


this voice— my voice— had hardened around some terrible, secret thing some hidden thing but that thing is dust now and gone..
Last Words

Last Words

A Story by Miss Christine


A conversation between a father and daughter after twenty years of silence
In a Motel Parking Lot

In a Motel Parking Lot

A Story by Miss Christine


Short, dark piece
picking up shards

picking up shards

A Poem by Miss Christine


the waitress at the table next to me drops a stack of plates and it shatters everything patrons clap and whistle, offer the required jabs as she ..
a caged thing

a caged thing

A Poem by Miss Christine


this desire to possess you is a barely-caged thing pacing just beneath my skin growling and snarling wanting you wanting to devour you the..
She, the Artist Domme

She, the Artist Domme

A Poem by Miss Christine


She, the Artist Domme, Chips away at your resolve In silence, She carves And you, in silence, tremble Betrayed by your own longing
eight weeks

eight weeks

A Poem by Miss Christine


It can take so little time to lose oneself in an abusive relationship.

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