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Ophelia wished she was a free bird-one as vibrant as the color of blood, that could fly away from the world. The brief thoughts of Ophelia in the hands of death - A Shakespearean tragedy.

The toxicity of a city, with its polluted claws digging at your dreams.

Two makeshift detectives chase after the disappearance of Ophelia Artel.

If all the unfathomable chances and stars didn’t drift into a straight line, like an airplane runway for me to take off into their heart.

In a night with no stars and no moon, there was a shadow in the darkness.

Like a dream she had drifted from the room,  And like a dream she seemed unreal, and like a dream she was gone.

But his hand were another thing entirely; nimble fingers, smooth skin, even something as accurate as anatomical sketches could not capture what she saw.

a poem for all the mother figures in our lives-happy belated mother's day!

What would humanity do if we could live forever?

Where do we go once we aren't in this world anymore?

Beyond the Stars - Part 4