generally
There is just nothing beautiful in winter that I can see, or feel, or write into a warm meaning. I don't know how. And there is nothing beautiful in the things you did, and said, and I could write about it, paint blood into art– I do know how. But how dare I make meaning… Continue reading some things
we hang lights and drink to feel okay, still this weather makes me cold to you. you just settle for so little light, as if it's your fault the days are too short to stretch out in, to be happy in, as if the sentence fits the crime as if we lived the dream, it… Continue reading Leaves settle for decay
In spite of every single thing, Leaves are down for the count. Another sunset outlines each skeletal silhouette- the light fades to match the bodies. And all my world is in its own shadow again. We're clear and static and cold and quick to bite, and still- Time flows along under sheets of ice. melissa… Continue reading winter (again)
melissa 