Where to start? At the beginning? No, too predictable, too linear. Let's just say that because of her past, she blamed everyone but herself. Secluded and isolated, she schemed. Vitriol for love. We were too late. The life of many a poor boy ended, lyrically, in the house of the rising sun.
Ochre Idyls
Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions