Author Archives

Tiara

Welcome to Muted Mouthful! My name is Tiara (she/they). I am a true introvert and socially awkward being trying to carve out a safe space for myself (and hopefully others). While you're here, my only hope is that you will laugh, cry, or cringe at the way I delightfully view the world. I can already tell we're going to be good friends!

Flash Fiction: Warm Memories

I remember the warmth of the sun; how it felt on my face, how it turned my hair from brown to blonde. I remember the warmth of a good hug and a tender a kiss. It would start in my toes, reach the tips of my fingers, and […]

Flash Fiction: Message Sent

Chase woke up to two missed calls and seven texts. They were all from his ex Logan, their breakup was fresh and she was devastated. “Plz talk to me” “U hurt me” “I love u” “I miss u” “I hate u” “Pick up!” “Check the door.” He scanned […]

Hypervigilance is Exhausting

It is tiresome to constantly feel the urgency to watch my back. I have yet to find proof that it is safe for me to let my guard down and run into the arms of a world free from harm. My hypervigilance is intersectional; I have three strikes […]

Poem: I Owe You Nothing

My curves and my smile were not made for you you are not entitled to my body, my consent, or my peace of mind. Keep your hands in your pockets, keep your lustful thoughts and your twisted fantasies to yourself. Do not question me, I owe you nothing. […]

“Stop Resisting!”

A phrase that, theoretically, is supposed to stop us in our tracks. Someone with coerced authority tells us to stop resisting and we are obligated to become compliant. Despite the egregiousness of the offense, we are expected to relinquish opposition and concede. We hear this command from police […]

Sexuality [Question Mark]

When I was growing up, I had no idea what a gender or sexual identity was. All I knew was that I know I was a girl, I guess. If I was not wearing a Catholic schoolgirl uniform, I wore my brothers’ and dad’s hand-me-downs or we all shopped in the men’s section together. I […]

Stretch Marks

I do not like my stretch marks, I never have. The unflattering lines dance across my body, a waltz of imperfection. The mirror is unkind to me, my zig-zags of insecurities exposed. My hips, my waist, my arms alike, are cloaked to avoid any unforeseen gaze. Then I […]