A different time.

Hora was a different twenty-year-old. Of course, she was exactly what no one wanted her to be - the creative kid. She lived in a weird city where everyone had latin names and strict destinies. It was believed that it was important to only do what was expected of you to set examples for other worlds, if there were any. Her name was latin for....

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...

Siblings, games and poetry.

This poem came out of bits and scraps that lay in my head. I cannot tell if it makes sense but maybe you can. Either way, I believe in every word I've written in this poem. It goes like this: "My sister believed that life is like a buzz wire game...."