Catacomb ​The clock keeps ticking, like a heartbeat in the floorboards. Every second a cold reminder of what I missed, what I rushed, the ghosts I should’ve held longer. My heart freezes a stone in a shallow grave and my mind does what it always does: it runs the tape. Over. And over. Every word…

MissT ​I am looking in the mirror, not for the ghost of your jawline or the shared tilt of our brow, but for the woman I left behind to carry you. ​For twenty years, she was a scaffolding, a temporary structure built to hold the weight of a growing world. Now the building is finished;…

missT ​The rooms are quieter now, echoes softened by the footsteps that have left. I pour tea into a single cup that once held the small warmth of your hands. I do not reach for shadows anymore; they have already moved on. ​And yet, in the hollow, I find a stretch of air meant only…

My Borrowed BoyOne day I looked at you,and the boy stepped aside.Soft skin yielded to stubble,puny arms discovered their weight,and once-tiny toes grew brave and broad.Your legs lengthened—fixed, groundeduntil you rose quietly,three inches above my crown,as if I hadn’t noticedthe nights doing the heavy lifting.How did I make this man?This almost-strangerwho carries my eyeswhile standing…

Frozen Toes and Rosy Glows ​It’s bitter cold, it’s minus three, The hills are white as white can be. The roads are slick with silver frost, In memories now, my mind is lost; Of frozen toes and winter blows, In wellies dressed like Eskimos. ​The sun shines down to melt the ice, The trees look…

The Kingdom of the Wise​ Let every wrinkle be a feature, Not some vanity-fed creature That makes you loathe your aging face And hide your beauty in disgrace. You may not be all smooth and fine, But your body’s like a vintage wine; An ancient vat of distilled wisdom So with grace, go run your…

By MissT ​The clock strikes, and everything changes. Tension at home turns people into strangers. The New Year dawns, and suddenly there are adults where my children used to be. I reach to help, but it’s never enough to make them see that life is tough. ​The kitchen table holds the space of every ghost…

You stood too close; your voice turned hard,a stranger’s edge, your anger starred.You spoke of fists like passing rain,as if a bruise were minor pain.The keys were mine; you would not yield.A car, a threat, the truth revealed.I pushed through panic, not through hate,to stop a risk before too late.Do you know how a heart…

The Tide of You ​I don’t know how to tell you The way I feel inside, With memories grown translucent now, Like shells beneath the tide. They blur and break and drift away, My pride a wounded guide, As if the mind seeks shelter In the things it tries to hide. ​I walk beneath the…

Being his mum is walking a hard road,a road of long nights, tight fists, and quiet tears,of picking up the shattered pieces he leaves behind.It is fierce love wrapped in frustration,harbor and storm in equal measure,saying no a thousand times while hoping he hears it once.It is holding him to the line,even when it tears…