Writing

It rings slow and steady,

Matching to my rocking.

A folded shelter forbidding the entry of you.

Blinking once-

Twice,

Awakening to days whose foggy mornings 

bow to the dark hoofs of the midnight horse. 

Covering myself in thick blankets, attempting to 

divert the cold that 

Icy feathers 

Biting frost 

Snow stained red 

With years we lost 

Freezing blankets of winter snow 

Gnawing hunger 

Kings brought low   

YWP is the reason I

Keep refusing to take off the nail polish

Chipped and speckled like stars,

Smiling when I see the flecks of gold

Within the flecks of turquoise

Blisters rub my skin,

Shed my bones,

And tear my fingernails to shreds.

Crippled into misery, 

I find myself dripping…

Farther–

the mornings are misty, 

cold and dark. 

my head hurts as I haul myself out of bed, 

put on clothes that clearly don't go well together, 

and set off through the fog of dawn.