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a glimpse.
the lightening of his spirit was tangible, as he watched the world breathe beneath the sun’s rays. the hour of the day was late, yet lush fields of green and speckles of vibrant blooms lay perfectly...
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ensoleillées.
golden flecks of summer are a honeycombed ash dusting my skin. the translucent warmth is a reminder : of days infused in honeysuckle sweetness and nights rich in heady jasmine that robbed me of balance...
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detelle : the lace challenge
the blue-black of dusk spilled its inky hue across the once pristine sky. the expanse of the abyss held not a single cloud, yet the heavens held no beacon of light – no shining star. time moved forward...
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ali di farfalla.
he wrote of their fragile beauty - a porcelain tenderness that begged to be cradled in the most loving embrace. frayed parchment found nourishment as the ink saturated waterings of his pen seeped onto...
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lost.
the radiance of the morning seeps though paper-thin gossamer to bathe her world in shades of red purple pink. the palette a harmonious compliment to the utter antithesis of her being. the essence of...
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inchiostro mai scritto.
breathe me in. feel the saturation of my soul filling – healing – melding with yours. let all your sorrows fly on an exhalation, for i am there – here – all around you ready – waiting – to lighten your...
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the storm.
the vestiges of summer’s warmth dissipate in the glooming of the bell’s toll. it harkens the beginning of battle - the inertia controlled wave of desolation’s front line. the impetus builds until the...
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my writing process : blog tour.
i was nominated by a dear friend and exceptional talent, magenta nero, to contribute my thoughts on my personal writing process. magenta is by far one of the most talented story tellers i have had the...
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biglietto da visita di morte.
the menagerie of my isolation ripples in glittering waves pulsating beneath my feet. refractions of rainbow hues encapsulate the wandering eye and entice the starving heart to drown in its beautiful...
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time tick tocks.
the hands pivot - the incessant ticking marking the passing of time… of breath. the pervading darkness no longer seeps from crooked angles yet the silence of space lingers. the symmetry of perfection...
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a farewell….for now.
two years ago, i set the immeasurable challenge of putting together a collection of newly penned prose. it chronicled my journey from the dredges of my emotional devastation to the highs that come...
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patience.
i wait for the breaths to come – moments when peace saturates the ravaged edges of a fractured soul. closing my eyes, i fall to the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest. i give into you the crumbling...
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fate. #picture prompt challenge
the moon held her lofty dominion in a blanket of stars strewn across an immeasurable abyss. only in the softened hues of twilight and dusk, was she fared away from her gilded throne allowing her...
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the cry of the mockingbird.
she hears them whisper of emerald dreams and lace-edged pasts. the myriad of moments saturated in the boozy haze such nostalgia brings. smoke swirled bitterness leave the palate tainted on woe-begone...
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ripple.
i often wonder how my world would look if i had been spared that first ripple. life is an amalgamation of choice reaction circumstance and yet we are meant to thrive in cataclysmic chaos. my existence...
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effortless.
this used to be so easy, pouring my very heart upon pristine page. but in the gaining and the absence of all that was it’s as if i’ve lost a vital part of me. the words beat a steady rhythm as they...
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the stigma.
it is never far from the surface- this lingering painful sadness sitting in wait ready to dim my fragile happiness and to leech the last vestiges of hope. there is o escaping this cursed stigma nor...
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what was left.
the last link of you fell through tightly grasped fingertips in the early hours of this spring morning. it was a hopeless longing that held this last vestige of real world connection when what is here...
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speedbump.
i am remiss by the reality that being unwell and being creative do not necessarily go hand in hand. i have stuttered and stammered through endless pages in my notebook and have failed to find the...
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stopgap.
i can barely remember what is was like to simply place my pen upon the page. the ease in which i could lose myself as line after line was seamlessly filled with the inspired etchings of a broken...
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