I want to tell you something. Some of the greatest, start with nothing.

Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
I want to tell you something. Some of the greatest, start with nothing.

I guess I reached a real low patch. Felt safer that way. Didn't care. It was all over. I was alone.

The monster that I am, vanished as I found you.

A clean calendar, a sense of space, I feel that this month, this year, I would overcome fear of my deepest emotions.

Grief and exhaustion, I am enduring it. I am carrying a weight and yet I am comforted in the thought: this is simply what living is.

My heart bled for you, and yet it was absolutely hopeless, but I was willing to hope that you could just acknowledge such a possibility of desire for me.

The promise of love, it was almost enough.

Ireland. The myth of beauty and tales so beyond the hidden ways of life.

The cunning manoeuvers of selfish duplicity have nothing on me.

I rose lazily on a crisp February morning, the snow shimmering brightly in wintry white.
