Struck

I am struck with a love for a woman.

The Curve Of Breasts, The Blade Of Purity

Her caress is a breath. It is mist brushing along the surface of a stream.

I Need You To Say It

Before the coil of worry could take root within my spinal cord, her lips met mine.

I Still Remember: A Small Collection About A Woman I Don’t Call Grandma

I still remember her hand upon mine. Age drags at her skin, veins wrap thickly around bone.

Falling In Love With You

I read three different articles on when to say “I love you.”