1. still smooth pillowsalways coldmy half-empty bed 2. small wooden boxtoo heavyto have ashes inside 3. grey felt stockingwhite paw prints -- empty this year 4. don’t touch the pill boxresting on the windowsillmy last piece of him 5. Back door left openwarm for Novemberbegging winter – wait
The week ahead-- full. Nights spent drunk with love and light. Wrapped in velvet and whiskey. My birthday is soon. Four days left till twenty eight. I put on my crown.
I. Wake up early-- run late. Who is the queen of your hive? If not you, then who? II. Pollinate the world. Grow wildflowers between rocks. Make honey at home. III. Stinger like harsh words. You cannot undo the hurt. It will hurt you, too.
Day like faded scars, nine years gone like yesterday, I remember you.
Typewriter Moon 