cigarette smoke and coffee plague the air
I feel it hurting my lungs by the second
The ashtray sitting among the clutter
whispers to me for some relief from the filth upon it.
My lungs cry back in a defeated tone
They care not about our cries.
It’s been proven time and again with the empty promise of laying it down.
Like the ashtray, my lungs will continue to suffer.
Until I break the chains of childhood and fly into open skies. Full of fresh air.

Born two days after Christmas all those years ago,
you left us in the summer like you wanted
so your body and casket wouldn't get cold.

Laying in bed too early,
whispering in my ear
asking me to talk or listen
as I'd grumble and try to hear what I could hear.

All those times you told me
and those stories I will not lose
you always talked and I always listened
because you always let me choose.

There has never been such a Nana as you,
so sweet but so set in her ways
-she said it was because of her age, 71-
but she was always ready to play.

She left us on a Sunday,
a day to praise the Lord
but oh how rough it was to know you were no more.

There is no way to tell the great grand babies still here
that Nana isn't coming back to the house
she cannot talk to us now, but I'm sure she's happy to hear.

(Author's Note)
This past Sunday, my entire family was faced with a heartache like none other. Losing a mom, a wife, a grandparent, a great-grandparent, a sister, a cousin, and an aunt. While we know that she's gone to Heaven and waiting to see us all again, it is still hard to hold back tears and harsh feelings. Although we were all there to watch her be taken to the grave, the truth still seems like a lie. Nothing will ever be the same for any of us, as she was such a large part of all of our lives. But if we keep praying and receiving prayers, maybe we will learn to find similar happinesses in holidays and family dinners. Through God and each other, there shall be healing.

When I touched your hand and face
just once to say goodbye
I was startled at the stone cold
that greeted me in lieu of your warm embrace.

I stared through water that found itself in my eyes
to look at all of the flowers
the ones you wouldn't have wanted
because eventually, they too will die.

I listened to the two songs
the only ones you cared were there
sang with beauty and love and grace
although they were not long.

When everything is past tense, except the memories that we share
I'm left wondering, praying, grieving and wishing
for just a little more.

our love is like trying to keep long, free hair
from tickling your face.

our love, darling, is like the stickiness of dough sticking to your fingers before you make your baked treat.

our love is messy, yes. crazy at times? absolutely.
but it yields the most beautiful and fun amazing moments.

When someone asks what 5 or 10 things you would grab if your house was on fire,
you never really consider that your house could catch fire.

True love comes in many forms.
The most different and unique is for Hunter.

True love is calling non-stop
from miles away
to make sure I didn’t cut
I had put the blade away.
True love is that care
the “you’re beautiful” stare
and the endless beauties you’ve shown me.
In the form of saving my life,
fixing our fights,
and helping me stay on track.
In the form of your kisses
and your “sweet dream” wishes,
in the form of my favorite song.
You’re in my head and my heart,
you made everything right when it was all wrong.

Yes Hunter,
I’m in love with you now
and I feel that I will be
until the death parting vow.
Forever and always watching out for me.
Doing what others can’t
being what I’ll always need.