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

i am thankful
that i still have
my memories
because they were all
that you couldnt take

Whilst you screech,
Through ships sails,
Like a thousand banshees,
Your icy, scarce warm touch,
Gives me shivers and sweats,
as you howl into spaces,
Destroying bark,
And concrete structures,
Underreckening,
Of her tactual sensation,
and power.