I want to be that girl Made of honey and clover Lost in the pages of other worlds That smells of vanilla and cinnamon I want to be that girl Tender hands of nature Hair kissed by the sun Dirt under her fingernails I want…

In the dark of night the Poetess tends her void   healing her wounds through her words   the affection of her longevity mischievous curiosity   she surrenders to liberation only found through transformation   ready to ascend the Poetess   faces her fears digs…

A closed mouth doesn’t get fed. What do you stand to gain if you don’t ask?

There’s no place I’d rather be Snow covered windows with a heavy breeze Fire crackling at our feet Fit snugly in your arms Tracing my finger over your palms Nothing is quite as calm Our little haven we created Something to be appreciated

Lift your bow, and breathe Pick your target Do not take your eyes off Blink and you will miss your opportunity Take it one shot at a time For an arrow cannot hit twice

Waves of anxiety wash over me Enhancing all my nervous tics

Kaleidoscope glasses arm flapping and shouting random words at nothing customers gawked at you but they still signed up for memberships even looking into the fractals on your face.

Eyes burning, limbs tired, head throbbing, the world went grimmer, darker and sad. What do I need to go on forward?

40 years later we met again wearing uniform   monochrome tuxedo some were crying some were playing dead    

Crunching snow beneath heavy boots, I walked alone. Hands tucked in my pockets, breath fogging as clear light glinted. But as snow began to fall, there was such a weight. Such a weight like a man’s, heavy, when pure, clear air was sliced open with…