SUEDE the poet
Bio
English Teacher by Day. Poet by Scarlight. Tattooed Storyteller. Trying to make beauty out of bruises and meaning out of madness. I write at the intersection of faith, psychology, philosophy, and the human condition.
Stories (41)
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When Winter Comes South
Winter doesn’t so much arrive in Florida as it drifts in like a rumor—soft, uncertain, apologetic about the inconvenience. The palm fronds never quite lose their green; the sky doesn’t bruise itself into snow clouds; the cold only lingers long enough to make you question whether you imagined it. But every year, sometime after Thanksgiving, the air shifts. It smells different—cleaner, sharper, like citrus peeled open too fast. And that’s when the ritual begins.
By SUEDE the poet3 months ago in Humans
Sand and Soil
A Memoir by Stetson Glass I’ve started to think the soul is shaped like a map—creased, torn, smudged by the fingers that keep trying to fold it back into something neat. I’ve spent most of my life tracing routes someone else drew for me: church aisles, chalk-lined classrooms, marriage vows, griefs disguised as callings. Now I’m learning to redraw it—not to find my way back, but to understand where I got lost.
By SUEDE the poet3 months ago in Humans
Unstitched
The key stuck twice before it turned. Eli cursed under his breath, jiggled the old brass until the deadbolt surrendered with a sigh that sounded too much like relief. The front door of the Benning house—he still thought of it that way, even after dropping the name—opened on a spill of stale air and dust, thick with the faint, sweet rot of closed-up summer.
By SUEDE the poet3 months ago in Fiction
