Aphrodite’s Disaster


She burned the box devoted to him,

And scattered the ashes in his car.

Hiss —

Irises flared in heated rage,

As she hugged her knees in the backseat.


He broke the window to her bedroom,

And stumbled through on drunken legs.

Thud —

Trembling knees cracked on wooden boards,

As he dropped his head to the mattress.


She found their picture in the glovebox,

And clutched the print with bloodless knuckles.

Rip —

Smirk and smile mocked falling tears,

When she tore their faces to pieces.


He saw the frame upon the nightstand,

And seized it with a strangled laugh.

— Crash —

Glass shattered, denting white plaster,

When he threw their love across the room.






She clawed his skin as he crushed her heart,

And Aphrodite sobbed from her throne,

As her masterpiece fell to Hades.

– kh.

March 2017 | Placer County, California

Miss America


Darling, you were a beauty.

Child of Venus, daughter of desire;

Men fought and slaughtered for your hand.

Darling, you were a hero.

Defiant infant, weather-worn warrior;

Influence lifted you above the clouds.

Worshiped, adored, pursued–a billion dreams you fulfilled.

Darling, what did you do?

One hundred times two,

Broken vows, homeless nights,

Whiskey bottles, legal battles,

Cigarettes and white powder in bathrooms.

Blood on your hands, filth on your soul,

Count to forty-four, your time is up.

Darling, if only you could save yourself.

Beautiful woman turned broken glass,

Marilyn Monroe reincarnate,

Descending from grace, burning as you fall.

– k.h.

© February 2017 | Placer County, California

X. Peony


An empty canvas stared up at her.

Mind buzzing,

She sifted through the colors.

Red, blue, purple, green,

Crimson, cobalt, lilac, emerald.

A picture’s worth a thousand words,

But only if it exists.

Yellow, brown, orange, black.

Canary, cedar, sandstone, onyx

An artist without a vision,

Searching for a message.

A single color left untouched.



A small smile.

“Let’s do this.”

– kh.

© Placer County, California | April 2016


She marks him on the surface.

Gliding thick lines over smooth skin,

Drawing her fears in midnight black,

Searching for the end.

He marks her deep within.

Etching his name on her bones,

Holding her heart between his fingers,

Awaiting completion.

He is her canvas,

A masterpiece;

She is his artist,

A wunderkind;

And together they bleed,


– kh.

© Placer County, California | September 2015

Late Nights

Late nights are for staring up at the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns behind closed eyelids.

Late nights are for roaming the worlds of the mind, venturing deep into the fantasy of imagination.

Late nights are for spilling secrets, laughing hard, and kicking friends off the bed.

Late nights are for trips to McDonald’s and sitting by the river, wearing the jacket he left in the car.

Late nights are for reflecting, wishing, regretting, and letting the tears finally fall…

Late nights are for the ones who fear the morning sunrise.

– kh.

© August 2015 | Placer County, California