You were never meant to linger here, Natalie, do somersaults in my belly // chill my bloodstream // mess with my brain.// My first published short story, 'Natalie', plays with the concept of reality.
Reality, Incarcerated.
Fall
As the November sun climbs higher // Soon to disappear out of view // I feel it // in every fiber of my being //Fall is not farewell. It is a quiet celebration// A subtle defiance// A rebellion of sorts// A dance of life.
Courage
If I can have just a glimpse // of what fuels this valley // It's what I came for // What I call out for // What echos back // What I miss most // When it's lost in the woods.
Piccadilly Circus
His corner of the world was one of concrete His soles raw from cold cobblestones (yet all he saw was shoes.) The answer to everyone's riddle is there: in his rags, his unkempt mane, his bruised and scarred arms.
When I Set You Free
Time will come for you, like all others. It will whisper that you, too, could run free. Your wings will spread, longing for purpose. You will fly skywards erratically, like the mayfly on a clear summer day. How I will miss you, my companions, as I roam these empty rooms.
Unbreakable
A thousand shattered pieces on a sticky lino floor sour, red liquid seeping into the worn rug's edges No. That's not me.
Never Mine, Ever Thine
I dream my stories. They are not mine. Stories make up the reward for me paying attention. I know that deep down, beyond the layers, no story is mine to keep. They are mine to share, so that they might be yours.
On Mama's Mind 