​Cigarette smoke and crumpled papers
Broken records and bad poetry

Bleeding nose and stained tissues

Crooked smile and throbbing heart.

Purple petals and painted walls.

Forced laughter and fading hope

Longing heart and teary eyes

Flower crown and reddened lips.

Bad jokes and quick remarks

Bright sunsets and pale moonlight

Twinkling stars and city lights

Long hugs and stolen kisses.


No man can understand the ebb and flow of this tide we call love. 

Its warm currents sweep us out to the deep, blue sea where we’re most vulnerable. 

When did man grow gills and learn how to breathe under water? 

Yet we run to love’s shores and hope we do not drown. But drown we do. Everytime.


She wanted to be different…

So one day she adorned a cloak as red as Snow White’s lips, and it dragged on the floor behind her.

They laughed at her, and made a mockery of her, and shamed her in the hallways.

All this because they failed to appreciate the beauty in Little Red Riding Hood, and how she so bravely fought against the wolf.


Loving you hurt in every way. It grabbed my heart and shredded it into pieces. It wrapped it’s icy fingers around my neck and pressed harder than it should. It forced me on my knees until they bled.

Loving you… Loving you hurt more than it should. It held me under water until I inhaled the cold liquid. It collided with my cheek until fires burned in my face and I tasted blood in my mouth. It tugged at my hair and pulled out loose strands.

It lingered in my mind even when you were gone. It left bruises in my mind and in my heart. It was the death of me.

Frost Bit

I hold your frail, pale, limp body in my arms. Your eyes, once a beautiful ocean blue, are now a faded hue. Your dark hair is splayed across the snow in an intricate pattern. The breath of life has left you, and yet I never beheld a more beautiful sight.

I had long since banished the feeling of sadness. Perhaps if you had loved me tears would dig troughs down my cheeks. Perhaps I would not have been the bearer of the silver blade that dug through your heart.

Forgive me, my love. For if I could not have you, no one else could.



You want me to breathe?

But how could I when you stole the breath from my open mouth? How could I when the life left me the moment you kissed me? How could I when I saw your ocean eyes whenever I closed mine? How could I?

How could I “breathe”?


There is a tragic beauty in the sadness that creeps beneath your eyelids and frees the years of hidden pain as little droplets we call tears.

There is a tragic beauty in the aches in our cheeks caused by the daily ritual of fake smiles and forced laughter, of withheld words and taunting submission.

There is a tragic beauty in the longing in our eyes as we stare at the one we love but who we will never be with simply because we fell in love at the wrong time, or better yet, they do not love us at all.

Beauty is a tragedy