minutes falling and counting and
running away as i chase them,
laughing at my face, laughing as i
reach for them, whispering
what does she think she can do?
our lives ended before they began.
does she pluck time's harp strings
so well she believes she
can pull seconds into hours?
can she force heartbeats
from wilted flowers? .

I miss the old winters
That warmed up my soul
As a kid, I'd drink cocoa
Coming in from the cold

I could sit by the fire
Mittens drying nearby
I'd watch my brothers sleep
As I made up lullabies

Papa would tell us stories
Like how his cat once flew to mars,
Or how he stole our grand mama
When fighting in a bar

I'd then make up an adventure
Of when we would be all grown
How we'd be the best of friends
And together we'd share a big home

I miss those old heartfelt winters
That held nothing but beautiful glow
But the fire has long turned to ashes
And the house is empty and cold

I place my gloves on the table
Boiling a warm *** of tea
The radio blasts to cover the sound
Of the silence that always haunts me

Cold, frosty, blue lips
Seem more capable of warmth
Than her ice, blue heart

a different sort of nerves
run up and down my spine
this is new, this is taking
breath and spitting out
a lie, chewing on the
tacky bits of life yet
still forgetting you
will die;
because death falls
through the walls
and takes us even
if we cry,
if we lie;
death is deaf to
tacky pleas and
pulls our breath out of
the lungs
beneath our spines.