Dear Valentine,
There's something about February that...
Dense sinister fog engulfs
a darkened hallway...
The last time I saw Beirut,
a full moon was curbing its rooftops...
Perhaps a paradox,
but I have seen roses grew on the ice...
A weary traveler,
one lonely summer...
A dog barks and wags its stump
of a tail when its master returns...
Our love;
was like that of a bright red rose...
I'm not a poet,
I'm not a melody...
Before the dawn, I always wake up to find
last night's dreams sleeping beneath my pillow...
It was only when I
rested a teacup...
I would like to take your serration
and run it over the tender part...
Who are you today?
The first few minutes after...