cliff-song
This song migrated from her playlist to mine, like a wish-feathered feeling she owns…
This song migrated from her playlist to mine, like a wish-feathered feeling she owns…
He slunk as he whispered it: “Don’t do this.”
Are clouds good for skipping stones? I’d like to know…
Read me with a genuine desire to see me.
It’s been a little too quiet in here…
The children…called him “Tristeza del Padre.”
My heart abruptly, but softly, suggests, “Tell her.”
The past is a foreign country…
Regardless of what, in whom or how you believe, faith is conceptually necessary.
I am poetry.
That day, as I recall, seemed so accursedly longer than most…
The path through fatherhood may look like a ball of knotted yarn…
They don’t look the same, taste the same or smell the same…completely, unanimously, inarguably different…
Love is insatiably selfish…
Hope has no mark missed more markedly…
I have a mind to sling it, in the most physically awkward and ridiculously violent way…
True heartache is a restless, hissingly dangerous snake…