~ Heart: porous honeycomb whose multitudes of caverns I mistook for emptiness. Heart-- whose beat I likened to the pulsate of a...

~ the crescendo of my silence/metempsychosis of moth to butterfly/unopened bandaid boxes/the sobriety of dawn/barefoot in the flower...

The storm decapitated the few tulip heads that were brave enough to blossom this April. Tulips are not like the other flowers-- they...

~ You say the rain is beautiful, yet you judge me for crying. ~ If I went to school with you, chances are you've probably seen me cry...

~ I pin the anemic bodies of poems to the bed of palm like they are cadavers waiting to be d i s s e c t e d. This is the only...

~ 1/4 cup of Stardust (must be wished on before being brewed.) 1/2 a pound of Bleeding Hearts (the flower, not the real thing, ya sick...