My Writing Lore

Welcome to my writing lore, where you’ll get a glimpse of me through my words…

  • Devil’s Daughter

    They call him the Son of God,my twin, with light in his eyes,hair falling in luscious golden locksaround his beaming, majestic face;his skin exudes sunlightand his lips let out tendrils of warmth;a white hot kiss in the midst of winter’s wrath. But I, on the other handOh I, oh I, oh i… They call me

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  • Lord Death

    He comes to me in the middle of the night,the room enclosed in darkness;once again, he brings chaos with him.There’s not a fibre of light or warmth,yet his pale skin brightens the darkand his cloak of black whirls,the formless cape creating slithering tendrilsgrasping over my arms, pulling me closer.His icy breath forms frost on my

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  • Beloved Grandmother

    A mother’s name drifts away the windslipping through my fingers in the breeze,impossible to catch and hold oneven as I grasp onto the strings.I cry out, oh it’s so loud,the wailing around me and in my head.a brother can’t catch his breath,I tell him, take one in, and then release.But I can’t seem to catch

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  • Choosing Himself

    He’s a man who will always choose himself;in sickness and in health. I’ve given my all to keep him pleased,but now I turn around and say, “What about me?” An entanglement has its needsand cannot survive with personal greed. Loneliness leaves you standing in the rain; waiting for a man who will never change.

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  • Choosing Myself

    He said, “I don’t get the way you tick; I don’t get how you click; with all the different people around, even they look up at you profound.” I laughed. “It isn’t hard to understand—all my life I wished I’d been a man. I’m not saying you didn’t have it hard, but not the same

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  • What You Deserve

    You are entitled to live and entitled to thrive.You are entitled to be happy and entitled to cry.You are entitled to breathe and entitled to hold.You are entitled to be free and entitled to let go.

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