Today is National Poetry Day

I was recently advised I should indulge myself in writing, as foolish or bad as it could be, instead of limiting myself to editing. Today seemed like an okay day for that. Forgive, forgive.

Frosted Windows, or Going Out

I taught myself how to say good-bye before I understood hello. Some things you don't forget.

The humming chorus of light through ice and glass so warm in your reaching and colder still than the numb familiar will of tile and wood and home, pulling me back and fracturing what I told myself I'd only guard for others.

But I always kept a glowing shard, to soften and sand, fading safe in my Insides because my heart couldn't be my own.

But now I'm grown, and the house-shadows only warn me of the sun that burns and how time not-wasted on my guarded heart can melt even glass and stone and years of regret.

I pretend I'm not a friend of good-bye, and turn my face to the burning light.