A simple thing

I found a simple thing
in a crumpled cardboard box.
A plastic bracelet yellow and blue
so ugly and old, but beautiful to me.

I used to play the fiddle with her,
but now I don’t know where she is,
nor what she does for work,
nor who she takes back home.

Maybe I would know
if I sought the house for more of her
and find more of those
memories trapped in objects,

memories trapped in objects.


Breach of reality

This is my first attempt at fiction. I will be releasing a short story every month. Any feedback is welcome! Enjoy.

Vice Versa Love

When we bodily departed
We remained deep hearted
Through low and high
And years went by

O sometimes we went
Gave our hearts for rent
To exciting danger
Always just another stranger

Yet it was always clear
Never any need for fear
For as Time grew longer
Our fire burned stronger

Still now do I worry
Darling, should we not hurry?
If not for a kiss
Then, what is this?

Lest our roads remain apart
Honey, shall we follow our heart?
And fly to high above
For everlasting love

Vice Versa Love

that feeling forever

there and then
it started with a grin
thrown at that lovely face
carved out with careful grace

with courage found late
I asked her on a date
to somewhere hidden away
where perhaps we could play

so it was in the park
under the chirp of a lark
our first kiss
O joyful bliss!

later her lips pressed on mine
we moved closer to intertwine
it left us in a state
where we were but bait

for Time to drudgingly destroy that feeling forever

Mothers matter most

The stages of life divide the life of a person. I have gone through childhood, puberty, adolescence and now daresay I am on the brink of adulthood. I met many people, some of whom I liked, some of whom I hated, some of whom I loved, some of whom I forgot about. The love I gave and received fluctuated between stages and between people. Each stage I went through had its particular lows and highs, with all of them being very different from each other. There was only one constant during these stages. The unlimited love from my mother.


short of breath she listens to words rolling from my lips without a pause as I discover the unexplored river of her veins with cold hands don’t do this stop but continue please yes she shivers as I carry her away with foreign words to frightening heights and unknown lands of rapture and bliss stop talking the world spins your hands and in a moment of wild force she turns around nude and looks at me with an expression of


Thank you to Yasemin of for being the seductive female voice.

Sometimes, You and I


in the rainy days of autumn
the wind whistles your name
underneath the umbrella of my thoughts.


stick to my mind
like a wet leaf on damp earth
brought by cold and dark

and I

wonder why I still see you
underneath the stones of projects and ambitions.