Rotten Strawberry

New poems
A medieval stone well stands at the heart of a moss-covered forest clearing, its circular rim carved with faint, eroded symbols of hearts, thorns, and hourglasses. From its depths rises a soft crimson glow that reflects on the slick interior stones, suggesting poems whispered by the dark. Fallen, half-rotten strawberries float in a thin ring of water at the edge, their forms dissolving into the red light. Twisted trees lean inward like silent witnesses, their roots gripping fragments of broken gothic columns. A low mist swirls at ground level, catching stray shafts of moonlight that filter through the canopy. The scene is rendered in detailed fantasy-art, with a centered, eye-level composition and a somber, romantic atmosphere evoking secret, melancholic verses.

Whisper Back

A quiet inbox for soft confessions, dark questions, and invitations to wander together.

Private Messages

Write when a poem unsettles you, when decay feels beautiful, or when you seek collaboration. Your message arrives like a lantern in the forest, read by me alone.

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