Night unwraps herself of paperwhite and cellophane. The smell of winter’s arrival lands like a starling on my shoulder, lingers like chimney smoke in my hair. Permanently branded in a script rehearsed too many times to be true, I bury the echoes of my sorrows in the quiet. Snowfall and nostalgic lamps cradle me to sleep. Winter blanket as a sacred rite. Instead of killing myself, I wrote this poem. I silence the porch light. I hope you get what you deserve.

Prompts used (tags are the poets’ IG handles):

@__vigilancee - “unwrapped” @theconstantpoet - “what I learned from the paperwhite Narcissus” @angelealowes - “buried in the quiet” @imandq + @ml.mecham + @laur_enough - “the smell of winter’s arrival” @loisofthehearth - “winter blanket as a sacred rite” @elenaspoetry - “instead of killing myself, I wrote this poem” @alexismromo - “nostalgic winter lights cradle me to sleep” @itsashenelthing - “I hope you get what you deserve” + “a script I rehearsed too many times” + “permanently branded” @gigi.flanard - “echoes of my sorrows”