August 3, 2014

After all the love,
all the laughter,
all the life has run dry,
will it matter what we were
to an empty, silent world?

He lives in a junkyard. Scraps of other people’s lives litter his home.

His heart was long since broken, so he fashioned a new one from junkyard scraps and tacked it in place with sticky tape—he figured it should hold out for one night.

Inspired by prompts at #HeartSoup by @HeartSoupPoetry


Rock Bottom

July 30, 2012

Heavy in my hand,
cold against my lips,
bitter on my tongue.
I never thought I would go this far.


July 30, 2012

His shadow ‘cross my face;
his whisper in my head;
my body warmed by his embrace,
even though my lover’s dead.

Times, Pt. II

July 30, 2012

There are times it hurts to love,
times it doesn’t feel like it’s enough;
there are times I need to hate you,
but never times that hate is true.

Letter (Limerick)

October 20, 2011

After the gift, she sent a letter.
In it, she wrote: could do better.
A weak critique
but then, it was only a sweater.


October 12, 2011

She’s there the moment you are born,
and never leaves your side,
her memories will be with you
long after she has died.
Her lessons may be sometimes harsh,
her punishments may seem unkind
but the love she gives is unconditional,
a thing that’s hard to find.