I am obnoxious to each carping tongue/ Who says my hand a needle better fits./ A poet’s pen all scorn I should thus wrong/ For such despite they cast on female wits;/ If what I...

Consider, O Lover, my throatwhite as cigarette paper.The crushed lavender of my knuckles.My heart, a dulled needle threaded throughtoo many patterns.

I had a dream about you. You had a gun to my head, figuratively speaking. In a literal sense you were holding a needle to my temple, because I was Mr. Bubblegumhead. I just wanted...

He pulled something out of his pocket and tried to stick it in her arm. A needle. He’d offered her hope, but then he was trying to hurt her. Poison. She pushed him away. “That...