I miss you, my friend.

Oliver called hospice the next day. The nurses came and went like ghosts...

The watchers started laughing in her head and she put her fingers to her temples.

The moon was slowly rising over the poster board horizon—its waxing gibbous a face turned away from their party.

For a woman who needs nursing care every few hours…It’s just too risky.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the ocean one more time before I die.”

Every day this week it was the same: two poems a day and Justine asleep in a half an hour.

Pain isn't a wound we can stitch to a close...

She thought she would never see him again and shame burned her cheeks as she remembered their last encounter.

She reached out a shaky hand to pluck the book from the table...

She needed that poetry book. But something was standing in her way.

Only one thing stops the destructive voices and that is...well, you'll just have to read on to find out...