As the wind whispers to an empty teacup with a paler shade of blue porcelain rain echoing the secrets of swollen lipsswallowed by the breath of an empty teacup that only the listener can hear 

From the bark of a sequestered oak, my tome-shanty, I never laid claimed to be a synonym or any other glamor to fame, by writing perfect words.Just a bookshop keeper with a mellow heart and a bobbin for a...

She sat across from me, a silhouette against the flickering bulb, her perfume a poison I was already inhaling. She was the kind of trouble that wore a lipstick smile and a story full of holes like asphalt."He's a...

As if a poet with one clue with a wooden heart, I whittleLike a ne'er–do–well, in my earthly attireBound by webs of frost, at the window sash Haphazardly, at times I ramble, without a thought, just naughtWith a splash of...