Burning
I am the forest fire And I am the fire And the forest And I am a witness watching it
Warfare
I am made of bullets; shrapnel You are solar flares and soft smiles- better creatures could love you, I know,
Unlimited
You think you can define me, That I’m a tick in just one box, Like my being is a door,
Un-owned
I have never been anybody’s person. I am the designated afterthought And the other option. I can’t really complain because
Stuck
You dipped your toes into the darkness, As if to test if it was cold, And I knew then when
I am a writer.
I am a writer. The characters I create aren’t me. They are a part of me. They are a part
Crucified
So tell me Where did the blood on your palms come from? Self divination or Sacrifice?
Last Contact
It was too late when the humans came. They were a young species, still exploring outwards, vital, and thriving. We…were
Bravery
In her eyes I see sadness Yet her face remains Daringly set In a calm, heroic grief.
So Be It
I cannot remember his laugh. I try to imagine it: Light but husky As an old man would, His eyes