The most vivid memory I have
of my childhood
is the time I embraced my artistic ability.
A black sharpie in one hand
and an insatiable desire to create
the image that my mind had constructed in collab...
There must be a language without words.
Just pure gibberish, somehow understood
in the little space in your chest, the corner
where heart meets lung
where love meets breath.
You know that feeling when...
The flowers by the window
Remind me of you. You always sat by the window.
You said you wanted to soak up the sun. I said there are more important things to do.
The flowers by the window Remind me of u...
is what I call my poetry.
Because it is mountain fold,
hidden in paper.
In every dotted i and crossed t
there is a story,
many of which are yet to be discovered.
I pray I am given ...