My mother believes that; ‘When one door closes, another door opens.’   I find this hard to understand, as my world has no doors.   In my world there is only a hallway; forever stretching and never yielding.   My hands Always feel For doors, the refreshing touch of a doorhandle, the sweet relief of … Continue reading A world without doors

When I look at you, There are stars in my eyes. Bright and burning, a solar system of anguish. When you look at her, they explode, and burn tracks down my cheeks, leaving their marks across my flesh. How I wish, you'd look at me, and yearn, for my touch. Not hers. There are stars … Continue reading The bright and burning

It is what it is. What's done is done.