So maybe she's mastered the poker face put the moon in a wineglass and escaped into the ink stained night reflecting no light, no starry blink no expression, no worries taking in the eclipses and storms that rent the firmament, into her galaxy and never crying tears of stardust. So maybe no one can see… Continue reading Maybe

Ishaisms, Poetry

Tossing and Turning

The night transports me to us, and your thoughts, like moments of a kaleidoscope amid imaginary chaos; as tears swell like the tides pulled by these eyes, drying up before they stream and leaving a heaviness within, fading before the release... A catharsis at the cusp, left incomplete, crawling back to its cavern - but… Continue reading Tossing and Turning