You stroke the spine
of my iceberg...

Burn my soul in silence;
watch me glint...

I write
to deaden the traffic...

Kill me in a poem you inspire,
let me write you in my pen...

Colors dripped on the surface
like goosebumps on tender skin...

She had a face of salt,
her features were fading away...

I will no longer write aloud.
This will be my last suicide...

Can one emerge so bold
from a fragile cocoon...

It was a clear morning outside the yellow kitchen
when the grey weather foreboded mischief...

Powerful like every natural thing
you were reborn in the form...

Hope ripples
below the river banks...

How to unload weight
from a heavy heart...