Reid@YWP

Last night, I left the basement light on.

The stairs creaked and my paper-thin pajamas

rustled as the sickly little bulb pulled me close.

Sometimes there is so much to love 

that it hurts. 

Like a hole, waiting to be emptied as it's being filled. 

That preemptive pain; anticipation of loss. 

The sky cries

with rain.

The sky snows for every whispered secret

from under thick blankets

in the dark

for the kid in everyone

that finds joy

the sky hugs with snow.

That house, worn down by sun and salt rain, was doomed. In a few years,

it would be a hollow replacement, gone from our stale grown-up brains. 

The justice part of the American justice system has left the building.

You should absolutely not be able to convict someone of a crime and have them suffer zero consequences.

No jail time.

No parole.