old habits

tasted again

sour in the mouth

no comfort



no expectations

offered truth

ache dances with numb fingers

honesty found


new year

rough start

revelations itching to the surface




Invisible Dusk

I walked out into the milky blanket. It encased the world

in quiet and cold, securing the silence in the color of

mourning doves. Everything was hushed, listening with all

of it’s might, to hear the sounds that would break the

silence. The fog smelled of powdery emptiness, ice

floating suspended in aether. Chimneys seeped out the scent

of hearthfires, mixing their grey, earthly tang with it.

the smell of fire and ice, hanging, clinging to each

breath, coating nostrils in dichotomy.