Something like Poetry


she is the kind that mourns when the days turn red - 'cause the clouds could not cover up a wound the sky wished it hid. she is the kind that paints such pictures with nothing but her words. quite often she turns red when her words are read. one too many times I ponder… Continue reading Casualty

Something like Poetry


Stood by me, And watched with me all the things I did see. Tell me now did I make it clear? Did I weed out all that I feared? Tell me so did you not know All these years I hid more than I have shown. It's a shame that that made you flee A… Continue reading Drowning

Something like Poetry


Someone once told me, our hearts are nothing but mirrors that reflect each other. That we are all in search of, bodies with souls that one day may complete one another. Oh we do meet every other day, when you and I cross roads outside our favorite landmark. I do turn my head today, hoping… Continue reading Hope

Original Writings

Josie and I

The oldest memory that I remember or have of Josie Salem is the one from 9th grade. I used to be this overweight, fourteen year old stout kid, who wore his pants high-waist, and combed his hair sideways everyday of the week, and who didn't think twice about my crooked spectacles, because appearances hardly mattered.… Continue reading Josie and I