eating a frozen dish
with the moonlight hanging over me
crying silently with the howling wolfs
brave silence sings in the clouds
screaming words ever so quietly
----------------------------

i lean into the Depths of my Counterpane.
the White lives of soldiers Float around Me
crying whispers Hide in the dark Shadows
frozen Bullets cry along the Gusts Of wind
rivers filled With ice Flow Along the banks
dancing Feelings trot towards The melted Dreams
and in Sorrow thoughts Come the Thawing memories
of Fire and Hail covered in black And white Slush
-------------------------------------------------------

Soaring high above the clouds
Your wings flying like shrouds
Never to land on the earth
Never wondering the worth
You use your wings to your advantage
And I never doubt that you can manage
The sky has always been your playground
And you were crowned
it’s playful child

Your feathers linger
Like wild fingers
Brushing gently along my shoulder
And I stand here resting on land
But death swoops along like a big hand
And falling through the sky
I can almost hear you whisper good-bye
Landing crumpled on the dirt
so I wrap you in my shirt
to carry you back to the sky
in the hopes that you will be able to fly
once again

The numbers.
They shine a small light on a dimming day.
Make my face break out in a smile.

The numbers.
Those **** numbers are the shining moonlight.
Those **** numbers are the suffering sunlight.
Those **** numbers can dim my day to darkness.

Those numbers.

T h o s e    n u m b e r s .

The small rock representing your birth
engraved deep into a necklace
proving your worth
to the world
and to you

you,
the one sitting there
staring out into a moonlit sky
the thousands of twinkling stars
dapple the sky
as the whooshing wind whispers
belonging

You
the proud dark eyed girl
standing tall along an old wooded pier
the spray of the sea splatters your face with its salt
bellowing waves crash underneath your feet
shouting,
You belong

And You
are still here
one of many
on this earth
loved and guided
through this life and to the next
and you,
**belong

Every morning the sun rises.
Every night the moon appears,
along with the drunken slur.
The stumble in your step.
The cloudy glaze in your eyes.
The heavy smell of alcohol on your clothes.
The mood swings that pull you side to side.
Flushed, red cheeks.
Screaming voices.
Slapping hands on skin.

I ask that small, feeble question.
*'Are you a drunk?'

W a i t i n g .
W
       a
     i
           t
    i
           n
     g
          .
Patiently.
Throwing things at the wall.
Fiddling thumbs.
Breaking glass.
Tapping foots.
Mind breaking stress.
    g
            n
  i
            t
  i
        a
W
W a i t i n g .