lean into this,
the hard work
the heart work
the art work of growing.
know that this isn't forever.
your body, your home will catch up
to the blossoming of your soul.
days and months and years will pass.
but then, like a child, like a flower in spring,
you will bloom, you will rise.
here.
unrushed.
in your time.

I'm walking down
the railroad track.
I have a cigarette,
a bottle of jack,
and a wife at home
that thinks
I'm coming back.

For if I told you that I love you
Anywhere but my poetry
It would give you the power
To walk away.
So for now I will write
'Til the pen falls from my hand.
Never not loving you
And never not denying it.

- p. winter

Flowers remind me of death
My father clutching a pathetic
handful of convenience
store bouquet flowers
Jack and desperation in
his voice
begging my mother-
the woman he beat and
walked out on to
raise three traumatized children
alone-
to take him back
Alcohol convincing him
that she was the true love of
his life
His sun bronzed hands
grasping at hope long
since murdered
brought flowers to the funeral
of their relationship

Flowers remind me of death
Your smile and laugh
silenced too soon
Your whole amazing being
shoved into a box
Entombed six feet below
my world’s surface
Overly sweet petals
prettily masking the
decay in my heart
caused by losing you

Flowers in all their beauty
remind me of death