Linda Marie Van Tassell Writing

She knows the difference between calm and calamity.

What is a woman without a man's love?

So much deeper than deeper can be.

I drank in love's glory then sank in the stormy tide.

Death is an anchor, and blood is the rose.

This is the night, the dark flower of day.

Night blossoms black on the tide of sleep. The roses bleed, but I will not weep.

He paints like summer in warm strokes of fire ...

Like the grave, he is full of bones.

A man has his will, but the woman has her way.

Know That I Too
We are never alone (a poem for mental health month)

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