Cold nights. Nothing but a cigarette. I’m roaming places that feel something like healing. I’m building a fragile house with strong bones. It’s all about the structure. If the foundation is solid the wolves can’t tear it down. If it has teeth, it bites. The silence matches stillness in the cold air and you have to choose to listen. You can’t lean into it without choosing. It’s all a fucking choice and I choose to build softly. And if I saw a shooting star I wouldn’t bother making a wish. I’d go back to prayer and hold it close. Let the same words reverberate in my rib cage- begging to come undone. Repeat it until I believe in it. Hold the words gently- every fragile noun . I won’t let any creatures occupy my peaceful space. If it has teeth, it bites. But I’ll let familiarity in. Welcome it with warmth, like it never left. -AMT ©️