A poem about two lovers forever apart.

"I do not wash my love of many
It’s hard to make love to blame.

… Moments of sensual bliss…

Spoken words build or break the heart of the hearer without the slightest knowledge of the speaker. Words spoken cannot be taken back, worse still a phrase made without filtering the contents can be so hurtful. This is a call to be careful of what we say.
“The pride of the She-pillow is in the praise of the he-pillow” reads the embroidery.

Have you ever talked to fire?

I was waiting for him in vain for many years …

We’ve all been there. Men do use as much of it as we women. Don’t even try to argue the point!

Yellow house.-house of mourning.

The crowd looked at each other, looked at me,
Tied up my hands chained to a radiator.

A poem about approaching evening.

A description of a wooden floor.