Winter sounds like mushroom soup
And warm cups of coffee under my favorite blanket, like fluffly socks and oversized hoodies stolen from my boyfriends closet. Cuddles and Marvel movies marathons.
But
Winter also sounds like the cries of homeless people being ignored and the 'we are closed for the night, come back tomorrow.'
Winter also sounds like leaving my newborn outside a fire station for the lights went out and the cupboards were empty and my baby's stomach was as hollow as my mother's eyes at my fathers funeral
Winter also sounds like slit wrists and fear of dying but I knew it'd be better in a psych ward than out on the streets.
YOU ARE READING
From The Attic (poetry)
PoetryFrom the attic is a book with thoughts and qoutes and countless poems I've stringed together with the scattered words in my mind. any
