Author: Eliza Bratt Email: ebratt@greeleyschools.org Submission: Altars: Art and Art Composed Chances are, no matter who you are, no matter where you grew up, you’ve probably seen an altar in some form or another. Whether it be the elaborate altars of Catholic origin, magnificent in their size and elaborate design, or a picture of a…

Bleeding light bounces off the ripples of the lake filling my peripheral vision, framing memories to come. The ridges of your fingertips graze only the very surface of my skin, sending chills up my legs; each hair stands uniform in response. Music blasting at every side of us, buzzing with every beat, dancing down our…

Bill was a simple man. He worked a nine-to-five job and rented the basement of his mother’s duplex. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t miserable and that was enough for Bill. Bill liked the mediocracy that his life followed. Nothing interesting happened to Bill, and Bill was definitely not interesting. If the color beige was…

I do belong, I don’t belong I do belong, I don’t belong Letting the sunflower control my fate The pedals even seem to have a purpose It’s really the ultimate debate What is my purpose? Will I ever really know?  A Psalm of Life said it best  But how far will the fire inside go…

I know that she will outlive me. When I take my final breath, when my ribs start to cave in, and when my spine starts to break, and my skull falls to pieces, she will fill her lungs again. She will exhale what is left of me into your mouth, and you will disregard its…

Your lips are burnt sugar,  glazed with vanilla the texture of whipped syrup. Your cheeks are like pieces of silk draped over a crooked wireframe. Your eyes are like pools of stolen moonlight, only they hide rigid daggers beneath them. Your tongue is contracted to a script, only so effortlessly written that my heart dances…