Upon the wood that was once the timbers of a barn,
the wood that was once a part of the chattering forests of the hills,
I write a letter of the kind of love that gives birth to entire worlds

With one touch you entered my soul,
As if your own body were its key

Through the quiet of the night, shadows dance 
Across the walls of a once happy home 
Echoes of laughter linger in the air 
But now replaced by silence, heavy and cold

Within the realm of love, a girl does dwell, 
Her heart a tumultuous storm, a story to tell,
She yearns for a boy, with feelings so deep, 
But fear grips her soul, her secret to keep. 

Through the quiet of the night, she sits alone, 
Her heart heavy with a burden all her own. 
Her hands, once soft, now clenched in anger, 
Resentment burning, a silent danger. 

In the cradle of her warm embrace, love blooms, 
A mother's heart, a haven of tender care,
Her arms, a sanctuary that consumes 
All worries, all fears, all burdens we bear. 

Into the wilderness, she disappeared 
Forty days and forty nights.
Her body emaciated, her hair withering.
Should she subject herself to such cruel doings?

Roses starve in the greenhouses like sheltered children, Wicked yet beautiful. 
Their contradiction is a fate clinging to the divine, It pains me, this envy 
Not lonely, not wicked,  
beautiful and shunned. 

A son is born, wheezing air out of his lungs as he struggles to breathe through the empty air. The woman, now mother who lays weakened by his conception on the plastic ground that surrounds her but not only her. The plastic surrounds all.

You left me
Like a lecturer
in an empty classroom

It feels like waiting for a bus 
With no tires or an engine 
No driver and wishing 
Somebody was there 

Love, 
give me a chance to experience you 
to spread my pedal wings and embrace your existence to
crash and fall wherever your fire burns 

The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the crisp white tablecloth, illuminating the half-empty glass of my lemon drop as my plate of seafood alfredo grew cold on the table. It should have been a romantic evening, a celebration of love and commitment, but a sense of unease gnawed at me as I watched D’von across the table.

A portrait of time.
A frame without a lie.
The stills that tell a story.
A conversation more than worthy.

Why am I a guy?
Sometimes the mind may lie.
I wonder what goes beyond the walls of mine.

What is this?
I don’t recognize it.
This color is a miss.
What am I?
Why do I blend in with the night?

The trees are stained with red
The leaves are bright with brown
All the trees are dead
They whither without a sound

“I’ve had it, I can’t take it anymore!” I heard my mom yelling through my bedroom door. I don’t know how she wasn’t able to see it, it was right there. 

So, to sum it all the entire town including my family thinks I’m insane.

Norway Blu’s laughter rang through the campus library, a bright, carefree sound that turned heads. Her short ginger curls bounced as she closed her psychology textbook, and her warm, golden-brown eyes gleamed with unspoken secrets. At just five feet two, her presence was magnetic, as if she carried sunlight in her pocket.

Growing up in the projects was all 14-year-old Anna had ever known. The struggles, poverty, and violence were a daily reality in her neighborhood. But Anna was determined to break free from this cycle of hardship and create a better life for herself and her family.