Mama , the weather outside speaks hunger.
The air whispers in syllabic groans
as it holds my bloated stomach.
I've seen the sun with cheeks full of food
but it wastes the food  by ejecting globs at my face
whenever I gaze upon it.
Perhaps the air can carry me through this winter.
Perhaps I can go to sleep.

Characters: Speaker, Real Estate Agent

Setting: A house for sale

The real estate agent has shown the kitchen and now enters the main bedroom and begins to explain the latest modifications. The speaker is not at the moment aware of the agent’s speech. Instead the speaker’s attention is caught by the closet which is opened.

Speaker: (Interrupting the agent)
You know, save for the musky odor
And dust collecting on the top shelf,
The closet, back in my mom’s house
The one in what was my room,
Is bare.
I always strained to keep the door shut
With all of my belongings pressing ‘gainst it.
Its bare now.
No trace of what once resided in there.
Just bare.

Real Estate Agent: Well, this closet is the biggest in the house so there is no need to worry about an overabundance of belongings.

Speaker: (Smiles)
It might be hard to believe
But I longer need
A closet.

Make-up won't make you pretty,
a smile will.

We are all pieces of paper,
Riding the morning breeze.

We ride elegantly,
Without much strife,
Until it halts.

Until we are stranded
Upon the sidewalk
Scraped for the
Flakes of white.

Until someone takes hold
Of our flesh.
Etches their name
Without being told.
Before boldly erasing,
While avidly cursing,
Our blue lines.

At times winter visits early,
Spitting fragments of yesterday’s snow,
To strike an already scarred face.

Yet, at other times the curve of its finger
Interlocks with the conscience’s
As it blabbers on like an infant.

I fell in love with the little things you do
Like when you whisper "I love you"
It sends shivers through my soul
And now my heart shines like gold.

The world is a painting.
We are merely blots of ink.

She isn't my sister,
the girl from Ohio.
Biologically we are no kin.
But her blood smeared against asphalt
has shimmering dots
revealing that
We are family.

This is to her and others like her.
The ones from before
and the ones after.

My sister will never hear these words
But as long as its known

I love her.
Even if the world wasn't ready for her.