Crush. A poem.
I suffer from the hugest crushes on women who have no idea who I am. I’m a bit of a twit, really. But I love women. I can’t help it. Shame I’m not more confident. Here’s a poem about that. Continue reading Crush. A poem.
Tag: mystery
Pocket. A Poem.
My pocket is the doorway to my soul. Or it could be, if I didn’t clean it out as much. Here’s my ode to the humble pocket. Continue reading Pocket. A Poem.
