My work is not meant to be beautiful.
My work is meant to be poetic…
Finch
i am in pieces
a tornado, blown open, a belt wrapped like a noose, tight around old scars…
Depths
Lover embracing, tracing your
fingers down my spine, unraveling pages of being entwined…
Silence
My breath grieves the veneer of
Love lost in shattered limbs that lay beyond the Oakwood…
People Talking
If I were right beside you, I’d
whisper into the caverns of
your ears…
Elysium
Watered down sunlight sneaks inside,
Past the dirty, aged glass of the windows…