Muse Of My Heart

Reading Sones I realize I have nicknames too. My grandparents call me AutumnRose. As if it is one word, one name instead of two. My parents call me Sisy or Precious, I'm the oldest and the first. My friend far away calls me Autumn-otopia. I used to be called Thumbelina, and Noodle, and Almond. My little brother's friends used to call me Godzilla, I hated that one. Just because it didn't make much sense when I finally got one of them to explain it to me. My smallest siblings will call me Anum. I feel all kinds of love and giggles when they call me that over skype. When he T9's my name into his phone it comes up as Button. I like it best out of all the silliest of things that he calls me. Muffy, he calls me when he is fake angry. Chic little biscuit, is what he calls me when he is pretending to be classy. Flake resulted from Flaky Biscuit, and I do not like that one. When he wants to be scolded he will call me pumpkin or bumpkin… Die. But the best of al

Condensation leaks down my glass of orange colored creamy deliciousness. It is red tea with cream on top and I like to use my straw to push the cream down and swirls of orange start to emerge. The noodles to my left are orange too, with bean sprouts and some pork that has been barely seasoned. It has peanut sauce and all kinds of vegetables scattered throughout the cellophane noodles. My dish is white sticky rice with pineapple curry on top, orange again, with tofu and bell peppers. Huge chunks of pineapple sit in the serving spoon for later. To my left is the desire of the evening. Sizzling and sputtering with the almost caramel sauce, are huge pieces of fresh spinach. They are topped with crispy pieces of tofu, as crispy as anyone can get tofu, and for the first time my mouths starts to water. The noodles are tangy with some lime that was added after they got to our table and my curry is much spicier than the 'mild' I was prepared for. But the spinach, oh it melts like so muc

Blue light from my butterfly sari curtain comes in to make my skin feel like a lithograph. It's too early to get ready for work, so I put some left over curry in the microwave. 'Don't look at me like that.' I say to my cat, her judgmental stare piercing through my tough morning facade. I lied. I look like shit. I walk into the kitchen, getting goosebumps on my breasts. Maybe sleeping naked is a bad idea. I always seem to flip flop on that one in the winter. I turn to hear a laugh out my window, realize the curtains are open and decide sleeping naked is, in fact, a stupid idea. I mean what if there was a fire. I would be in the cold outside watching my house burn down, naked. I go put on my robe and eat my curry with my judgmental cat. I hate waking up when it is too early for work, but too late for anything of substance to grace my morning until work. So, I go back to sleep. These fifteen min have not happened, I decide as my cat slips into the unconsciousness I wish to

With a bit of an inward sigh, smoke trickled and then tumbled out of his nostrils. His elbows on his thighs and the seat of his pants on the only seat in the dry bus stop. I with my bags, likewise, tumbled into the bus stop. There was a imperceptible line of dryness form the rain where I could only stand twelve inches away from the smoker. My knees matched his and but my hands were on my belongings in a vain attempt to keep my library books dry. Though my hair was plastered to my face and my faux leather jacket was dribbling rain all the way to my heels, this stranger was as dry as his damned cigarette. I scowled down at him. He only slightly raised a brow and drug once again on his wrapped poison. I racked him appearance for another way to judge him, when he slid over and offered me a small amount of the steel seat. I relented with an arch of my own eyebrow. He leaned even farther down and offered up his temples to his hands. The embers began to burn near his hair. In a moment of comm