poem
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Tremor of Stars
Two rivers run, unseen, beneath The skin of stars, where silence keeps. One hums in shadow, one in flame, Yet neither knows the other’s name. A mirror breaks in a language lost, Reflections drift, count no cost. Bones of wind, whispers of rain, Folded inside a secret chain. Time blinks sideways, refusing doors, We are Continue reading
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September Whispers
Crisp air in the trees, shadows stretch a little long, summer whispers, gone. Continue reading
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Moonlight
I don’t wait for him. But I notice when he’s gone. Some nights, his light brushes my skin, and I pretend it’s enough. We never speak. But I look up, and he looks back. That’s all we ever do. And somehow, it feels like everything. Continue reading
The Dreamer's Pen 