I learned from you to lure them in by radiating loneliness. To cup them gently in my hands so I wouldn’t crush their small wings. To whisper my last goodbye and let them go. I still heed your words every time I catch one. After all, it might be you.
Alyson Floyd is a writer, poet, and amateur zine-maker drifting around the east coast.
Her skin droops under the bar’s neon lights, melting away like candle wax. From underneath, a different woman emerges. Disheveled hair. A tattoo sleeve on her arm. Gray eyes that might’ve been green once. With every self she burns through, all that becomes clearer are the screams she hears inside.
Alyson Floyd is a writer, artist, and poet. She hopes to publish a novel someday and then disappear into the woods.