• woman sit on chair

    A Poem: Airplane

    Take me back to the salt ocean waves of Santa Monica. To the arms of an airplane and the words from my father. Hold my hand when I grow...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor • Lifestyle
  • laptop open on white desk with pink and golden accents

    The Choice

    confusion tiptoes down my winded spine until I shiver my skin crawls forearms itch my stomach flips. eyes begin to twitch with an...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor • How She Got There
  • couple standing in front of fence near body of water

    Wishing Well

    My eyes twist back Fall down the stairs into the deepest wishing well praying to see you again Your words wrap around my waist arms that...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor • Relationships
  • close-up of woman holding white headphones around her neck

    Don't Tell Daddy

    I walked into the living room one night, it was a Sunday. My mom sat at the couch, drinking tea like always. I shuffled over and sat on the...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor • Mental Health
  • assorted-color toy ball lot

    Inevitability

    Imagine a rectangular tank you are standing barefoot in, wearing nothing but your favorite T-shirt. You look down as water begins to rush...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • The Man Who Gave Me Everything

    I watched my father’s heart break just a little day by day it cracked more. The developing masses slammed against the edges ripped apart...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • A Child's Swimming Pool

    You ask for my forgiveness, And believe me I want to give it to you. But I cannot just give away forgiveness like the slight smiles I give...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • Alive

    Like I keep injecting myself So temporary That feeling of freedom But then i am liberated Freed from my own mind The voices don’t yell in...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • Strangers

    Strong winds swim through the dark grey skies. Out over the balcony, she looks down sixteen floors of homes. She gazes past the big...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • Poisoned

    You did not stab me in the back. no not at all. You slowly poisoned me till I gasped for air confused as to how I was so close to not...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor

  • One Hundred

    I think of love as a long staircase with exactly one hundred steps. It takes climbing up each of those steps and reaching the hundredth...

    By Abi Nosrati • Oxford Emory Contributor