The Crack
There’s a crack in the headboard
Has it always been there?
Did he see it
and ignore it?
Maybe he didn’t think
it was going to crack open
a thunderstorm
above our heads
Maybe he was too proud to admit
that you can’t change the weather
I traced it upward with my fingertip
It was surprisingly smooth
like the skin of a ripe apple
I expected to wince
for it to shock my finger
with its grainy teeth
Teeth that it must have
but have been hiding this whole time
just waiting for the opportunity
to sink its obnoxious fangs
into my unsuspecting flesh
I never felt that passion or desire
that urge to claim me as its lifelong partner
and walk me down the aisle
Maybe when we used to wear shy smiles
but were soon thrown away
for the tight lines of our mouths
Now I’m trailing my finger lazily
down the crack
hoping for the bite
that will never come
Coffee Run
Red tail lights, right hand
searching for the gear shift and
the button hiding underneath
like it knew this was going to happen
but didn’t want any part
Crunching
like a handful of potato chips
being eaten by someone
with their mouth open
My mouth was open too
but the only thing
that I was chewing on
was what to say
The feeling, a violation
like I was changing
in my bedroom and someone was
peeping at me through the blinds
knowing
that it was already too late
My coffee sat there
looking white in the sunlight
while we exchanged information
then drove away
BFF
I have a best friend
She is the one in my head
spewing out poems
About Alisha Crump
Alisha Crump holds a bachelor’s degree in English Studies from Ball State University. She was a poetry editor for Ball State’s national literary magazine, The Broken Plate. Keeping her passion alive, she is now a poetry editor for Torrid Literature Journal and Orson's Review. Her poetry has been published in Junto Magazine and Sun & Sandstone. When she is not reading, writing, or editing poetry, she can be found reading a Stephen King novel or watching reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.