Missing Conversations

Too often –

All too frequently –

The missing words –

Speak more than the conversation –

Do you regret it?

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Coldness

Any other time of year-

I look outside for an escape, to escape.

Not today, the cold it seems has expanded from inside me to out. 

Desolate, sad, and the anti-hope.

There is no relief.

I seek release.

Instead, I’ll run my pen over the paper yet another time.

Reaching 


Dance with the clouds.

Walking this path more often than not gasping for breath, it feels possible. 

If I just make it that final mile, those last few steps for ascension, impossible seems inevitable.

The sun has moved, it’s no longer rising.

My legs have tremors pulsing from thigh to toe.

What if this is it?

I am only meant to witness, not participate.

Would it bring fulfillment enough?