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...."

Strangers with Pizza boxes.

It's high time we started talking to one another. While the first half of this century will be famous for introverted artists, that's not how the real stories will survive. In this poem, I talk about strangers and stories. It goes something like this: "If you look carefully when walking on a busy street, you'll see rainbow kite strings around the neck of every stranger...."