Writing

Butterfly

Sipping my hot chocolate, I look outside at the rain belting against the window, hoping for a glimpse of my man. Daisy pulls the blind on the door, indicating the

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The Thief

The two girls giggle about the DJ they fancy from last night, paying no attention my way, as I browse the designer clothes. Still, I keep them in my peripheral

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The Ballerina

Parisian dark skies frame the cold grey housing block decorated in graffiti. Communal steel dumpsters overflow with putrid trash, and I see a rat feasting on the remains of a

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Bodhi

black nights reveal the stars  silver lights in the sky  I am without you now  once only you and I  you were my source of love  a river never dries  a stream of constant grief  I miss

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Nightmares

All around buildings fall  Some explode some stay tall  I run fast as I can  while feeling somewhat calm  even though it’s a dream  I still hear myself scream  I wake with fear and dread  There’s rubble

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