I give to others, Because, like poetry is the truth In the breath and words I exhale, I cannot love any other way Than deeply and rawly. I reject, refuse The fear of loss, becoming less. Vital parts breaking away, a final straw, Rendering me, finally, as dust. I won’t be a vase made of fragments, But rather cloth,…

A colossus in the currents With claws drifting serenely down And green-gold eyes Seeing, but not revealing. Try explaining to that grinning mouth The merits of followers, likes on selfies, And checking “just one more” work email. We rush manically, frantically, As though we’re expected at our funerals Ten full years before the Reaper calls. Planned days laid out…

Let me not be a flower, With delicate blooms the sheerness of dreams, And a fondness for gentle touches, Or the longing to have my scent admired. Instead, let me be a comet Streaking through the night sky,  Unashamed of my fire; dazzling, daring all to see. And yet….mysterious. Cold. Untouchable.  – Sara Myriad

And when I leave you,  It won’t be the gradual chill of winter mornings  Found in the beginning of the season, When berries hang fat and red on their stems And birds puff up their feathers,  Like old men hunched down in woolen scarves and mittens Lovingly made by old women. It will be a plunge into icy water, …

I could circle you, ravenous, and take you as my prey, But I would rather roll onto my back gentle as clouds and let you have me under that watching blue sky. Control is an illusion but I keep reaching for it, Perhaps I’ve been waiting for the caress of words; the intoxicating loss of control. The muse imprisoned,…

And maybe you want to believe that every person who comes into your life is your soulmate or missing piece or the one who might finally save you. But maybe, they came into your life for something wonderfully human and brief and fragile: to introduce you to an author who writes into your soul or a song that says…