Writer. Dreamer. Lover of music and people.
Dearest Rashell, I write to you from the couch in my little apartment on Alice St. in Oakland, California. The light fading from my window reminds me that the day is coming to a close. I just finished saying…
My heart struggled to match the rhythm of your shallow breath
While I found myself drowning in the blood of your shadow
I heard only the sharp edge of a perfect stone screeching against glass
Just the other day, the ongoing battle with my not so hip Motorola phone ended.
You are our hope;
Did you know
that you are here on many prayers,
Prayers uttered from the lips of people
Who loved you,