Writing

It’s close to the holiday time. Everyone is festive, joyful. 

every little star in the dusky night sky,

has a story that collects together.

i hold the stars in my hands,

and count them one by one,

watching the stories unravel.

some stars poke me and leave scars,

I'm falling into the deep end,

That dark place that floods me

Over and over till I'm drowning

And I just float, float, float.

I haven’t been to upstate New York since I was ten years old and we drove away from our house there without looking back.

 Home is where the heart finds rest, 
 A place where dreams and memories nest. 
 In walls of love, in every glance, 
 We find the comfort, and soul's dance. 

Mountains made of icy sand, 

The sun peers down onto the land. 

A mirror casted upon the ground, 

As winter silences every sound.