Dancer/Screenwriter. She writes with chords, dances with words.
The birds on our roof are extra loud today.
I hope that's the sound of cheer, not dismay.
Are they looking forward to May?
By My Name Is Not Cypress9 days ago in Poets
I rarely do but that day,
when I had a second to breathe
I looked up at the sky
A squirrel scurried across the wire
Against the blue, on top of the black, a tiny blob of moving gray
By My Name Is Not Cypress19 days ago in Poets
Knife in one hand. Blood on another.
The puddle of red paint reflects my own eyes.
Shaped like the waning moon. Something that made you swoon.
By My Name Is Not Cypress29 days ago in Poets