I’ve never been good at holding anything,not even the light that shinesfrom the ceiling fan.The switch might as well be off.You came through the door,half…
Poet & Storyteller
She walks in smokea slow burning incenseedging in reverse. I breathe her in deep,And feel hercurling into my lungs,a warningthat smells likesieged perfumeburnt but sweet.…
The Last Piece is a poem about love offered from a place of pain, and how we sometimes try to make someone feel whole while…