...aaand none for Gretchen Weiners...BYE!: A Poem
would you judge me if i told you
that i imagine your arms wrapped around me at night.
that i imagine our hands interwined
and sit there thinking of your lips against mine
and would you think less of me
if i told you that i wish i was in your head
to be able to see what you think while lying…
We didn’t plan on being writers we are simply plagued by the beast we are delicate ones the aching few the bleeding few spilling out across note pages and clinging desperatly to our hearts
The air was eating away the warmth and getting thin and cold; dusk was unimaginably dreamy and beautiful with a strong pungent smell of sweet flowers lingering in the air
she always loved autumn most;
she found comfort in decaying leaves
and loveless trees. she found comfort
in the birds that fled and in the books
never read. but now it’s winter, and
she’s bereft of all comforts, she’s cold
and broken, which is the worst possible
combination. with fingers locked around
an empty cup of tea, she remembers how
her father used to say, blue’s a cold color
for a reason— winter is a doleful season;
even the winds are too sad to stay.
