Fallen 

​I am tired just to be heard as words, These nostalgic mushrooms, Are real, The thorns left in my heart, are real, I can’t show my human pain, There is no word Invented to express What your love does to my heart. So I write about my origin, The ancient woman Behind the space, Her…

Dreamcatcher

An orange tree, Ready to bloom, Under rays of sun. A happy child, Smile on face, Open hands to catch, In search of dancer butterflies. A simple sense, stretched over, awaken in a small space, In centre of a clay, Named heart. In lust, in desire, To live a life without a reason, Once for…