Loneliness slipped on her hands
Like gloves too tight, winter dragging
From March through August, blind months,
Mending her heart without her knowing—
She grows like weeds, unsmothered,
Mad girls laughing sharp as sharks,
Invisible, gnashing below.

Warmth lingers, hidden behind
The dazzle of her body,
Skin winning battles no one sees,
Inches of flesh, red lipstick
Sealing her letters to Monday’s dead skies.
She reads between clouds,
Grows like a sunset—
Blue bleeding yellow, yellow to red,
To black, star-pierced and burning.
She makes a wish.

Faces blur, monsters curl beneath
Her bed at dawn’s pale rise,
Her eyes, dry deserts, cracked
With secrets she’ll never show.

Winter’s here.
Winter stays.