Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve,
I'm deciding not to believe
the nasty spikes they hammered
through veins, bones, soul,
Christmas Eve,
I'm deciding to believe
that Spirit curls itself up
to rest in the craters they carved.
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Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
