-
March 17, 1997, under the four-leaf clover,
- a symbol of faith, hope, love, and luck...
-
Your sad eyes
fixate on your soul...
-
they’re suffocating,
the memories of us...
-
Sometimes I think I am a flower
I cannot tell myself apart from one...
-
you
speak of...
-
I fear for the day when I no longer see the good...
Or even in myself...
-
-
repeat it
until you believe it...
-
She used it tonight, my new name,
pulling me aside and brightly exclaiming...
-
graffitied clouds
whither from a night sky...
-
The greatest place to
hide your misdeeds is behind...
-
Don't outpace your friends.
paddling unequally you're...
-
The sunset drips in hues of blood orange,
Melting into whispers of the softest blues...