I grieve for the old man who isn't old at all, but his heart is wrinkled with pain. He is dying inside. How quickly a beam of sunshine...

You, as embodied by thought and memory, lurk in the shadows to emerge in those rare moments. Humble in your beauty you are everpresent, since become a...

Even more prominent yet is the space in my hurt. The raw, the waiting. For my penpal who doesn’t exist. For my reader who doesn’t...