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...continue readingBroken Hearts
Broken hearts taste like glass shards in old wine.
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Woodwork
My affection, it grew like a tree Reaching out words like branches Chopped & sanded till you swept up the scraps With a broom of the twigs that fell off.
...continue readingPoetry
Poetry comes rolling out of my pursed lips like smoke curling under the door. Somebody’s going to get burnt soon.
...continue readingPretty Notions
Pretty notions, like faint moisture on her hands in the sunlight, glistened, refracted and vanished into thin air.
...continue readingThe First Rain
The memory of him clings to the tips of her hair, like the first rain that they got caught in, inadvertently.
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