Old metaphors for love.

I don't have much to say except that this poem is based on one of the oldest metaphors for love - beaches (or oceans or water, whatever it is). It goes something like this - "In 2008, I was a scarecrow standing at the edge of the world where the sand and the water conversed for days...."

Too much.

Steve was heartbroken the day Husky died but was always afraid to admit it because he believed heartbreaks had become cliché. There were too many poets writing about it, too many eyes crying over it, too many stories ending because of it. He believed heartbreaks had become 'too much' and he was born a minimalist....

Cinderella’s shoes.

Never had he felt the warmth of her fingers before. He had anticipated it to be like the warm sun on a cold morning, something that would make him shiver and smile. He had imagined it to be like hot coffee or the softest quilt, or the rush of caffeine in his veins...

60 and in love.

"What does it feel like to be 60 and in love?" I think the question needs an answer. This is not a true story (at least not necessarily). Read to find out the story of this woman and her forever. It goes something like this: "Routine and magical. We've only been together since I turned twenty-eight but I could swear even..."

Something about Naomi.

There's a quote that made me believe there's poetry in everyone. Every story we hold within ourselves has a different rhyme scheme. I want Naomi to become one of those stories, too. Would you like that? It starts like this: "Some random things you should know about Naomi..."