• The Story We Hold

    What is shown on the stage,

    For the whole world to behold,

    Is a forever advancing phenomenon,

    And what a tragic story it holds.


    The horror of your war and your hate and your grief

    Is being taken out on me,

  • Closer to spring

    Darkness falls quickly now,

    the feeble sky overpowered by the black pull of eternity.

    Snow turns to rain, rain turns to mud,

    and every month, I bleed and I cry.

    It's almost Christmas, but

  • On Being Vane

    Somewhere between a flower and a coffin
    lies the colorless sunrise outside your windows.
    I am devoted and still breathing like the Elin.
    You are innocent and still sleeping like the Pothos.

  • The Blizzard

    I hardly knew her at all, wasn’t expected to.  She was just a kid at the High like anyone else, who had no car.  She was sitting stubbornly on a bench, determined to get a ride.

  • Seasons

    The lovely Lady of Summer is carefree and beautiful, she swims in lakes and dances with flowers as her long hair floats in the warm breeze 

  • You

    I love the sound of 

    your voice,

    your laugh,

    And when we can giggle over nothing.


    I love it when we sleep over, 

    acting like dorks past 2 am.