What was all the weeping for? The endless tears over you, what did they do but drown me? The anger, like a swarm of bees, who sting before they die? What did that do, but scar me? What was all the aching hope, but a drifting ship, with no north star? What did hope do but lose me? I brea...Read more

I sowed the pomegranate's seeds, which he gave me, when we dwelt in that half-life of shadows, together. One, to gift me back my pride. Two, to awaken my numb body. Three, to draw out my laugh. Four, to show me my muse. Five, to close his hand around my heart, Six to let ...Read more

He owned three translations of the Iliad, and he read them all. He didn't read them dutifully. He read them avidly. He read them with his soul. Sitting in the corner of the cafe, hand tangled with his curls, face rapt, glasses askew. He searched for the differences and the similarities in nuance, in...Read more

You make me feel like moonshine, and snow crystals in clear skies, and bonfire sparks on a dark night. You make me feel like the wait's over and the train is here, and finally, I'm on the right platform for home. You make me feel delicious like I'm new bread and heather honey, and I taste s...Read more

Though my sea still craves your shore, I do not read your poems any more. Your metaphors are forming and reforming and I don't know what for. I do not read them any more. It's like a door that once was open, It's a frozen heart I dared to hope on, It's a sinking ship that tried to float ...Read more