Photo by Neil Rosenstech on Unsplash
Winter is ruthless
for loss. My friend,
breathless, sick
three weeks now
in a city I’ve never
been back to,
fights for breath,
oxygen strapped
to her face like
someone’s home
repair project.
She sent me
a picture looking
brave. Fragile.
But she doesn’t
text, no calls.
So I wait. I hope
she fights, that
the battle is less
bloody than appears
from here, that
this year winter
leaves empty handed.
About the Creator
Pia Banton
Poetry, occasional fiction. But always the poems. Over caffeinated, up all night.
Visit me on Instagram @piabantonpoetry
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.