I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose’s childhood, but time is a mother’s enemy.

That little girl was dead and in her place stood a cold-blooded killer.

The loss of innocence is inevitable, but the death of innocence disturbs the natural order. The death of innocence causes an imbalance and initiates an internal war that manifests differently in each individual, but almost...

Never had we ever kissed as lovers; if we touched lips it was as brother and sister. In one moment of emotion, our lips fell together by accident, but we quickly removed ourselves as though...

He had always tried to treat Havaa as a child and she always went along with it, as though childhood and innocence were fantastical creatures that had died long ago, resurrected only in games of...

I knelt and locked the door. I locked the door locking the world and time outside. I stretched my body across the mattress and Saskia drew in close to me and placed her open hand...

Where was my guardian angel when I needed him most? If only I knew.

Innocence could be lost more than once after all.

We shoot our heroes and enjoy peripeteia as a spectacle akin to sport and perhaps harshly disavowing the past protects us from the disappointment of our outsized hopes–who knows, really, but shifts in taste don’t...

You know what I miss the most about my youth? My gullibility. It’s nice believing in everything and everyone. It makes you feel secure, but be strong and depend more on yourself and you’ll be...

Innocence crafts its own demise.

Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles]It’s meAnd who is the poet writing this poem?That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles

Hello,” Life says, “Remember me?We started out together hereWhen you were just a bundleOf innocent amazement.Remember how you saw the worldWith nothing but wonder?We were such rowdy playmates then.We painted on the sky with cloudsAnd...

The world was alive, the sky descending; our times were lullabies and sad goodbyes.

There is no place for innocence on the battlefield.

Meadow’s Waltz…the meadow had becomeher sanctuary of spiritoffering an escape from a painno child should ever endureforeboding clouds began…

I wanted to shout down to him, to warn him that he was giving flowers to a monster, but I did not.