posts.

At the End.

My Grandma has told stories about her 8th birthday for years. A whole crowd of family and friends had gathered in the Rissacher home in upstate New York to celebrate. Gram was in a pretty dress, they’d bought a cake for the occasion and it was a snowy, sunshiney day. Amid the festivities, at around …

poems.

{these storms}

this rain has been unyieldingthese storms have been heavyday after day they uproot and shiftand alter and abolisheverything that felt safeMy heart is growing coldand I am tired of these cloudsbut my love won’t let me drown in the sea these storms have causedHe won’t let me trip on the piles of wreckagethey continue to …