I was woken up by a nightmare.
I woke up in the middle of the night
when I had fallen asleep
and a poem was finished.
The silence makes the painting 
in the air I breathe,
feel heavy, feel suffocating.
My throat is dry.
And on such a thirsty night,
a poem ordered an inkbox
and a piece of paper,
and I ordered a bottle of beer
and a cigarette and also a lighter,
and night ordered

itself for me.

I was falling
for you

the feeling of
being weightless

the sky and
the ocean are
blue

like your eyes

your eyes and
Einstein’s brain

are the depths
I can never reach

but I will drown trying
to reach either or both

Books devour the silence

that weighs down inside

like bright little creatures

they dream and breath

in their cosy little worlds

until each page sizzles

with a human touch

you steal so many nights from me
by leaving me alone
to weep and grip the sheets
and know you won’t be coming home.

- p. winter

I thought if I could swallow the stars
I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky
I tried one night    with fireflies
They burned my throat
Their legs striking at soft flesh
But my skin did not glow
No moon crawled from my eye sockets
I was left with corpses in my stomach
I soon learned I would only ever be
A cemetery

nothing would make me happier
than to hold your hand for the rest of our lives
grow old with you
and watch our grandchildren play under
the magnolia trees in the summer sun.