The Faylin Valley began with stroke of violet, the perfect sky. It might not be the truth, for the truth was that the sky was dull and blue, but that didn’t concern Tully so much. If kings and queens could be rid of every imperfection, the sky would receive such treatment too. Everything was beautiful once Tully had put down his brush, and the valley would be no exception.
Read more "The painter’s daughter"Oxford boy, dear oxford boy,
Walked in before my shower
Watched with careful glower
Looking strong and rather dower.
And I didn’t mean to stalk you,
But I know that’s what I did.
Read more "Oxford Girl – A love poem?"It’s not all about the girl, I promise.
It’s so much more complex.
Just because I spend my weekends
Reading through our texts.
Looking at my reflection,
And feeling my morning erection,
And reaching for the spinning blades,
Like I do on all work weekdays,
The ocean, visible behind the plaza, stretches out endlessly, a shifting background of perfect blues that never quite settle. The world looks so big from here, or the ocean does at least.
Read more "A place I’ve been"Did you ever love me,
The way that I loved you?
