Words from a Tortured Soul's World
Short Poems

To Joe

I found the blood-smeared photo...
Did you mean to remove yourself from life?


To Be

If all my days were count for blessings
But I've not blessings that I count
Do I cease to be?


On Being Shy

Would you rather I were obvious, to everyone, to both of us
And lost myself in selfishness and confidence and ecstacy
And blurted out the things I'd do if you were here, or I with you
Leaving nothing to creativeness or fantasy?