“Poetry is birthed from pain and love, meeting somewhere in the middle. Someplace between the towns of hurt and cities of healing. Love and loneliness live there, too. Poetry is explored through the salt of tears and howls to the moon from the heart.”
— the journey to paper by A. Elle (81) - Neon Soul
Sweet Escape
“a remedy for lost love and hopeless romantics, you say.”
“We demand a new persona, one not sickened by the touch of you.”
CXVIII
Sunday Morning Girl
“she was a reckless Friday night, quick sanded into a Sunday morning lover.”
Belmont Blues
“an adolescence in the arms of a man whose head was in the sky”
