drowning

drowning in this dark cloud. no way out.

rambles of the lost

if i were to start writing about my lifemy pages would stay blankwith unfilled lines, maybe the occasional scribble,the doodles that bleed through pagesinto the wooden desk underneathand my finger – a drop of blood crowning the tip – will shake till a masterpiece of blood and tearsadorned the page – these rambles trip and

petals

remember the roseyou gave to me yesterday – only its petals remain.

blossoming

rose petals unfurl,raindrops alight in small bounds,bed of pink beauty.