In English, we say, “he’s romantic,” but in poetry, we say: his whole being is composed of dreams and love; his heart melts away little… Read more

If I were stung by a bee, perhaps I’d wake up, I would see In vain, this façade we maintain You keep pretending you don’t… Read more

Always there Beside me, to the abyss of being You A sorrowful song A forgotten melody Yet so familiar… Always there. You holding my hand… Read more

In English, we say, “she’s crying,” but in poetry, we say: her tears are slowly falling as cherry blossom petals drift on the spring breeze.

“You hold a special place in my heart,” he said. And then, he left, leaving her heart forever bared.

As evening falls, the fireflies alight, like tiny sparks of hope carrying our secrets in the night As evening falls, the fireflies alight, I asked… Read more

Lost in love, found in you.

I am a slave to my sentiments, as someone once told me. He, however, was a slave to logic.

If she were a color, that would be red; the hue of a ripe strawberry, bursting with sweetness in your mouth. Intense and luscious all… Read more