i carry fear
like breadcrumbs;

leave a trail behind
so i know
how to get back to
broken.

…

there will be a time
for maps
later.

there will be a time
for arrows pointing
north.

there will be a time
for warm lighting,
soft pillows,
writing our feelings.

but for now,
there is dark.
there is cold.
there is never-ending
silence.

for now,
there are bedsheets.

for now,
there are silver spoons,
frozen fingers,
half-eaten pints of ice cream.

for now,
there are tear-soaked
sleeves

for now,
there is sleep.

and when the morning comes
here,
it is still dark.
it is still cold.
it is still silent.