• Hannah Flowers

a withering woman

waiting by the window

rocking chair and walker

juxtaposed by photographs

of contained youth

of nights of tall glasses

and fishnets and golden earrings

and portraits of happy people

by the fireplace and tree

she crochets a scarf

which becomes a shawl

which becomes a blanket

it fills the room with warmth

and she wishes it upon you

wherever you went

wherever you will go

and prays you make your way

stumbling through the door

creaking floorboards leading

to the gift she made for you

but it's a cold and lonely room

one occupying a space for two

but what else would she do?

what else could she do?

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the celebration

there's no celebration without mourning, and vice versa. but it feels wrong, surrounded by cheer to hold back my tears. i'll serve the cake and all, laugh together, then retreat. it is my pain to bear

With Current.

sixteen hours never felt so long but eight flow by like a breeze we said we'll wait and see where the wind carries but you know where i'll be, anywhere but home if you're not beside me. i wish i were


an unexpected error in my programming an oversight, a glitch in my system a skip in my heartbeat unaccounted for, verily i built myself from the ground up structured so carefully, strong to withstand