Time stamps.

Here's a little something I wrote. It's about diaries and memories and tragedies. Also, wine. There's also a few tv show references. It starts with this - "Happy stories are like glasses of wine. They don’t last forever unless you have a big bottle hidden somewhere".....

Poetry on her skin.

"1957, one autumn night, she asked me to write poetry on her skin. It was right after I'd kissed her waist and told her how her skin reminded me of paint - of blue seas, white birds, yellow autumn leaves, and red wine, every shade that made her human........."

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...."