My Writing
My collection of poetry, prose, and short stories
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You came gently into my life- Like you were approaching a frightened cat. So gently, that I didn’t hiss or run- As I’ve always done before. So gently, that I choose to lay my head, On the pillow next to yours.
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I don’t even know your name,But I know you own two cars:You drive one every day,But the other you never use. I know you have two children,A boy around 9 and a girl around 5.They are both in school,And they both have brown eyes. I know you used to have a garden.The dug-up patch can
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Do you remember that movie I made you watch? David Tennant was a writer, who was going to marry an actress, But he fell in love with a failed copywriter on a small Scottish Isle? Do you remember when she told him? that her ex called her “A song- not a whole album”, Then she
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That night I dreamt about Sarah. She stood with her back toward me. She turned as I approached her, and she held out her hand toward me. Before I could reach her, she was fading.I ran, trying to reach her before she disappeared completely. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t see anyone else. The
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Part 3 I started by digging through property records and newspaper clippings from the city. Within an hour I knew the basics; for starters, Rose had been right about the name “Young”. The house was built in 1906 by the Young family after their original family seat had been destroyed in a fire. The estate
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You think my little quirks are cute For now The way I shout when I get excited Or how I’m always looking for my key or my phone. You like that I take hours to drink my coffee And how Half read books and loose pens lay around But I Can’t stand to see dirty
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Last night I drowned. I stood at the lookout point of a canyon, looking down. The overlook loomed over the edge of the canyon, opposite a waterfall. The water fell as a thick mist into a rain forest that stood at the edge of a bottomless chasm. No matter how hard I tried, I could
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I saw the same empty rooms almost every night and woke up with the unheard voices still ringing in my ears. Each night the dream felt more and more real. I could smell the musty scent of damp brink and decaying wood. I could feel the rough walls under my brown fingers, and the chilled
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Local gossip said the place had been on and off the market for years, but no one wanted it- not even for the prime location it stood on. No one lived in it, and no one cared for it, but the old house refused to disappear.
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If you are here Then I must be too So I touch your cheek And lay my head on your chest In the dark When my body isn’t mine And I have no name Your heartbeat is real
Bringing Mae Flowers 