She existed in the creases of his hands; like tiny shards of glass She filled the space.
The Girl Who Walks Behind(The Girl From Ipanema)
Category: Poetry
If You Want
I'm in the kitchen painting peaches with juices dripping down my chin.
Song of Grief
This business of grief
People Who Write
The boy who hides won't find comfort in the silence of his head.
Doe
Doe, do something only I could understand, walk in the middle of the road with your eyes closed.
Don’t Get Lost
I turn to respond only to be greeted by the soft caressing scent of a pine fire
Aigner Loren Wilson 