Call me,Even if it’s 3 a.m.,And I am dead to the world.Every fire pit eventually has to go out,But even those cold ash embersAre kept…
Poet & Storyteller
Call me,Even if it’s 3 a.m.,And I am dead to the world.Every fire pit eventually has to go out,But even those cold ash embersAre kept…
I smell the wild on you.How the snow is caked in your fur.When the night falls, what doesIt offer besides survival.And the means to be…
My bones ache from all the cleaning I’ve done. I’ve cleaned up all the dust and finally hit the floorboards that I always tell myself…
You’re the glassI pour my whiskey intothe perfect weight.Heavy, broken in. Your neckrests comfortablyagainst my fingers. Your cold body,lost in my warmth,your lips become sticky,…
Your voice forms the bricksof a well-built home. It holds in warmth on a hot day,stores heat on the cold ones.Your voice is a shelterone…
of water from a glasssip by sip,a glass full of time. Second by second,it trickles between salt and brine,traveling through memory. Although the most primalof…
The pen scrapes on the paper.I outline the way you make me feela single line, followed by another.Soon, they connect in a shaded silhouette. This…
She struck me out of the blue, the way that most beautiful songs find you. It plays out of nowhere, normally when you’re out and…
in a downpour of rain.the world fades away in a flashof white.the rain slants and drizzles,Beginning to fill the gaps of potholes.And crooked cracks left…
I’ve lived in your heart for a minute now.And though I love it here,the faucet leaks,the door doesn’t shut rightsometimes I have to hold a…