ATTIC HOURS
— where January learns the art of restraint
Midnight lingers, sleep stays away, and peace arrives without ambition. In the quiet attic of thought, even burnt sweetness and fading feelings learn how to glow.
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WINTER’S QUIET RECKONING
December feels snowed-in this year — frost on the glass, sorrow in the stockings, and a midnight hush that sings its own quiet carol. Even darkness glows if you stay long enough to see it.
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UNTENDED EMBERS
A November piece shaped by memory, loneliness and the warmth we borrow from things that leave. Writing this felt like finding a small light in a month that keeps teaching me how to endure.
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THE GENTLE RIDICULE OF SEPTEMBER —where laughter is stitched into silence
Even in fatigue, I find a rhythm.
Even in silence, I find a word.
Even in September, I find myself—
still walking forward.
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MONOCHROME WRECKAGE
—where endings refuse their names
I wear sand in my hair, a salt-slick crown,
where alternative endings scatter, unnamed.
I only trust myself not to drown—
a reef built from regrets I never tamed.
...continued
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INHERITANCE OF DUST
—where survival learns to speak in verse
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-Forecasts in a Forgotten Language-
'A cartography of quiet revolutions'
𝕬𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖑 𝖂𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘 ✍🏻
#imlaurengreenprompts @imlaurengreen ✍️
