january love.

some mornings, I am quiet 

snow cascading over the 

ramen noodles

the kid smashed on 

the back deck

I am the chipped 

mug full of creamy coffee 

held in two hands while 

I speak in cat voice to the 

only creatures who don’t 

roll their eyes when I 

am a hot mess

most nights I am 

whiskey sliding down your

throat, smoke in your eyes, a wild

tiger lily waiting to be plucked, the

queen of cups, devoted

like an addict

© 1.29.2019 heather brager

past life.

I have been 
so alone 

that I have 
chewed 

the entire rind,

slowly tipped 
my very last 
bottle, I was
never warm 
enough 

for you, death 
by 1000 strokes 
of my pencil, a
nameless

soundtrack 
filling 

hours that

I will never 

get back