feet cold
even in the
thickest socks

not used to
mountain weather
years in temperate climes

have softened my ability
to suffer silently
i feel ancient as  i walk
about, muttering....
too cold, too cold

the little heater
working overtime
but doing naught
mocks me with it's
white noise rattle

hot showers are great
til you have to leave
the steamy warmth

bed is the warmest place
so we, all  are in it ...
like puppies in a box

too cold, too cold

People who have kids always try to make it a point to let you know:

A. They have kids.
B. You don’t have kids.
C. Your opinion doesn’t matter because you don’t have kids.


My heart breaks into two and my mouth does that odd thing where I try to smile to hide my tears, but it quivers and I feel previously open parts of my soul shut down.

I am aware everyday of my 30 year old existence that I don’t have kids. I am aware that while I was in college making straight A’s, my friends were building connections with lovers, purchasing homes, having families.

Now I am left in an unfit despair of nothingness and quiet mornings. Empty nights full of Netflix and crying. Hugging my cat when the human touch is lost.

I suppose people don’t know the words they say can sting like daggers. Suppose, maybe they do.

I looked at the bay
it glared back streaks of sunrise
a soul at my shore
the fleeting burn tells my own
I have known those eyes before