82 words on her

She removes her jewelry one item at a time.
Rings first; fingers liberated of gleaming bonds
surrendered on a nightstand.
Her wedding ring flashes under lamplight.
Next is her necklace, which slides down the shadows of her chest
As she unclasps.
Bracelets take time, as she must undo her right wrist with off hand.
Last are the earrings and the anklet she places in the pile of silver and gold.
Colloquial etiquettes.
She is finally free
To do something she will regret.

More PoemsContinue Reading

Shareable Snippets

Follow On Instagram

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

07 22 18

Yellow Scarf

07 18 18


07 18 18

Hallo Berlin

07 18 18

Kitchen Table

07 18 18

Vacant Lot

07 18 18

Norwegian Maple

07 18 18


07 18 18


View More


I am often asked what I do for a living; the simple answer is, I make stuff. I make stuff with my bare hands, with code, with colors, with words. I aid in making the people around me realize their optimumĀ selves. I make my mother proud. I try to make my kids happy and encourage them to contribute more than they consume. I make sure self comes first. I make money. I make my own luck. I make a pretty solid french toast. And I do all that I can everyday to make the world better than it was yesterday.