A Memory for Sale

I want to sell my memory of you; free my mind of the cage you built around me, liberate my heart from your last words continuously circulating, contaminating my bloodstream. The ghost of your touch has left me with a naked soul, my spirit exposed, because your caresses used to burn my skin dissipating it…

The Whispering Trees

When the breeze of a cool March afternoon intertwines with the warmth of the sun’s rays and dancing a seductive waltz they glide along the tree tops caressing the leaves as they go, they awake them, the trees. It is on days like these that I feel it the most, the whispers, the soft voices…