Change tastes like apple cider in November, clouds of pulp making sandstorms in the pitcher. Change feels in my fingers like the lace up of thick leather boots The smell of wet leaves, clinging to your body like baby hands. I thought there was something to save but you are throwing it away Raking up … More Change
I was too drunk to be bicycling. Tree braches grasped out at my arm, tracing wetness down my skin like body paint. Slowly I slid my feet down from the pedals and dragged them on the pavement to a stop, forgetting how to brake through a haze of whiskey. I glanced down at my hand. … More Only One Heart
The irony is that when you tell people you’re a feminist, you end up spending a lot more time defending men than before. Specifically defending how you feel about men. Which is complicated. The irony is that I’ve heard anti-feminist women say more fucked up shit about men than I’ve ever heard a feminist say, … More Some Thoughts on Men, Feminism and Love
When I was first falling in love with you I was terrified you would see realness in me The flesh of my thigh in fluorescent lighting The need for love to come in smiles or applause The drinking. I can finish a bottle of wine a night, easy I wanted to tell you. Before I … More The Dare
I wanted to have sex a lot right before I ended it. Maybe I knew it was coming. Wanted to store it up. Maybe I was living with the reality that the body has needs of its own – comforts, rituals, hungers. Sometimes I think that every true misery in life is born of moments … More At the End of Things
Bruce Springsteen was the one who first introduced me to the notion that men cry. I was a little girl and my Dad loved Bruce. My favorite thing was when he would turn up the gargantuan black sound dial on our new stereo system, pick me up in his arms and spin me, legs out, … More Bruce Springsteen (Or, the art of crying like a man)
He said he wanted to walk with me Because the streets were long and dark Because my body was beautiful to him And other men could see that too Because my father had passed away And there was still loss in my eyes. He said he would walk on the outside So the mud from … More Walking Alone
I am fascinated by quiet women. I, who have always been afraid of being too loud. Too big. Too much. “You have a lot to say.” A second grade teacher once told me. Tell me about it. I grew up understanding that there was a shame in silence. Be quiet. When you had an opinion … More Quiet, Powerful Women
One thing that college taught me Get drunk first, and make decisions; Revisit them when you ‘re sober. Whiskey for memory Wine for poeticism Beer for cheer Gin for sass And something cheap and medical To give you mistakes to atone for. I ply my liquor shelf as an adult Searching for transformation Knowing that … More College Drunk
Sometimes, my love, it’s true that I want to live in that place. That dark, angry place That small narrow place. That room whose walls are slanted inward like the set of a Tim Burton film and everything out the window is matte and dead. That place we go to when we start to Unlace … More Love Letter from a Depressive
Jessamyn Fitzpatrick 