…it’s much less stressful to tie a string around that spotlight and tug a little to make sure you never quite leave its warmth.
…the anger has cooled, the hatred is gone, leaving in its wake a small pool of pity.
I bet you thought it would be different, being human.
…sharp teeth of an angel.
Poetry is only a moment.
Love with a whole heart, or not at all — not even a little.
I write what I feel, and I let it go.