I looked out at the winter night
The moon cast such long cold shadows
Over the freshly fallen snow
The deer tracks ran away into the forest
Long strides with another set in close pursuit
A chase.
But no blood.
She had not been caught
Everywhere tells a story
Some more gruesome than others
This chilly winter night tends toward a lonely tale
As my pen finds it’s way to my heart
The heated blanket provides only topical warmth
And the fire still doesn’t reach down into my bones
The crackle of it like bones splintering
But luckily I’m not that cold yet
I cuddle up on the couch with the blanket and my notebook next to the fire
And let the pen scrawl across the page
It travels to my depths
But it comes out hollow tonight
A tear falls cold down my cheek
And hurt
They try to escape any way they know how
They need some way out
A constructive way
Without hurting too deep
So many familiar ways
Hurt so deep
I don’t want to go back there again
I stare into the fire
So many different ways
Turning my back on one, I found another
And another
I learned so many ways to harm ones soul
Trying to pick up the pieces is taking so much longer than smashing them to the ground did
Why don’t they know not to smash them to the ground?
It all could be saved if it’s not broken to begin with
But now I write to mend
I write to heal
I write to share
I write to love
I write to help
I write for me.