Young alienation, disappointment and heartache is all a part of the first real growing up that we do.

I wear a necklace of hope with pearly beads. When I met you, it broke, and the beads spilled all over the floor, into the gutters.

My pain builds like storm clouds―massive, dark, and heavy with teardrops. Moisture falls torrential as if my world is a violent, eternal downpour; however, at long last the source runs dry and the bitter storm...

You reached into my chest with your words. When you spoke, my heart danced. Love muddled thoughts based in reason. Interest withered like a flower in dry heat then your words wrapped themselves around my...

The closer he was the less confident I was.