The Wronged Man (poem)

You play with love like it’s fire,as if it doesn’t burn you from the inside out.But it does burn.And you cry in the ashesas if you didn’t light every match.You take, break, misshape hearts like clay,then beg us all to stay,while we stay warmand you turn cold,searching for something new to hold.Not someone.Some thing.Until boredom … Continue reading The Wronged Man (poem) →

My Story Is Mine Alone

We are all living and breathing writers, we are writing our life stories every single second that we remain alive. The story is our own, we own it because we live it, we love it and we hate it and we chose it, we plant the seeds and we water them, some grow and others … Continue reading My Story Is Mine Alone →