winters outlast every living thing.

well, the plants didn't survive. they froze of went up in smoke, died of thirst, or just faded out. my skin isn't thick enough to not feel symbols. i feel the cold, i feel the dark. i've lost things and i don't know what's missing or what became of them. i hate this, this invisible and loss. makes me feel like i have no hair on my head or like a heart with no limbs. were a lot of deaths this winter. babies were born and died and i anointed their heads and shrunk inward. people i love died and i don't know how to mourn them. we suffered and struggled, love, but didn't make it through. sometimes i feel so hollowed out, you could ash your cigarette in me. but some things survived. even if all i can focus on is the violence of the struggle. i'm trying to focus on. some things survived. one cactus in the bathroom made it. parts of my imagination. invisible things. i'm grasping. smallest hopes. i want to believe that loss is a part of life and that things that die will be born anew. desire's a seed of something, i suppose.