You, who are always where I leave you.

Your’e firm and plush

A fabric that beckons me

To please, do not rush

You know just how to hold me

To support, to coddle, to brush

My body is so tired

Sometimes, you make my skin flush

When I invite another

You never tell us to shush

Alone, we can be rowdy

Your squeak is impossible to hush...

November 16th

He didn’t let me ride in the ambulance, said there wasn’t enough room.

They took her away, unaware they let a wolf sit by her side.

I am alone.

November 18th

It was black out when he stumbled through the doorway; his air was acidic with a hint of cinnamon.

I squeezed my body behind the hamper in our laundry room, the shelf above my head, pressed down on me. My head hurts.

I...

I use a wheelchair now.

My limbs and neck and back can move, I am still able to move them.

I just can’t feel them.

The sun was out and the leaves rustled in the trees; I can still hear. I imagine the cool, silk light touch of the wind, the warm kiss from the Sun’s rays.

I made it a few feet from the hospital exit, my hands, unable to grip the wheels like how they are intended to be used. I ...

The sunlight stung my eyes, promising that today’s weather wouldn’t be marred by the presence of clouds. A child whooped from somewhere outside, confirming to me that today was the kind of day that begged everyone to leave their homes, go outside and soak up the warmth.

But I was cold inside.

The outside sounds of laughter faded away, replaced by the ticking of the clock; he’d wake up soon.

I ...

It didn’t smell; the body of the dead squirrel.

The creature was flat and stiff, cast to the edge of the sidewalk. I waited next to it, hoping I wouldn’t have to stand there too much longer.

Its eye had been pecked out, bright red tissue remained inside the socket. Even though it no longer had an eye—no longer was alive—it seemed to watch me. Unable to blink its gaping hole shut.

A shiver wri...

I guess it was my fault

That my phone did a summersalt

I put it in my pocket

Then it shot out like a rocket

Now it sits in pieces on the asphalt...

The snow bit into my bare shoulders like a thousand tiny mouths trying to devour me-I guess even Mother Nature was mad at my being here, being on her Earth.

The sky was a swath of navy blue and pure, white sparkling stars. They looked like nothing more than specs from this angle.

I was barely able to raise my hand, to try and reach those specs again. I jolted, stinging jabs raced up my spine, s...