love, or what i thought it was
i love you, and i don’t mean in the way that i love new socks, or the rain on the windows. or the way i love crime dramas and poetry. i mean in the way the stars love the moon, how they only seem to …
Recent Posts
stages of grief
My dear, I came to see you today; they said it wasn’t a good idea, but I disagreed. Your quaint apartment hadn’t changed a bit, which was comforting. I knocked on your door. You didn’t come. I knocked again. You must have gone out, perhaps …
a collection of shorts..
isn’t it ironic how we kill flowers because we think that they are beautiful but we kill ourselves because we think that we are not 2013 (first verse credit to writing-away) i couldn’t sleep because i had a headache and a death wish and an …