The slopes that rise and fall With our breath between them Are a sihloutte of green hips On the horizon: Suspended across the skies In an effortless sprawl, They are wild thighs To the wondering mind As a pen is to paper The incarnation of daydreams.

Written by OhhhwillowFebruary 5, 2017April 18, 2017

Fingertips

Deciphering the heart: distinguishing between fairytales and futures.

Written by OhhhwillowJanuary 28, 2017September 1, 2017

Hurricane

We take one hand, whilst letting go of another. How do we deal with the internal conflicts arising from these matters of the heart?

Written by OhhhwillowSeptember 2, 2016April 18, 2017

Lights Out

Becoming every colour can leave us gray, when the lights go down