wildly and freely,
in the spaces between the trees,
in love, our souls dance.

T. Enocho

Forest

What if the writing was on the wall
but you couldn't see, blinded by
your own reflection.
And if I spoke out aloud, would
you hear me over the sound of 
your own misery?
What if I gave you my heart, would
you have space to hold it beside 
your ego?
Too many what if's.
I think I will hold onto it for a
while longer.

T. Enocho

Too many

I heard you calling my name,
your voice crawling along
the forest floor like a 
desperate echo from the
past.

T. Enocho