The Writing of Uriah Winter

10/04/2026

12/03/2026

When the Harvest Moon Lets Go

Tonight the moon rises slow,
as if it knows we’re trying
to hold the world still
for one more breath.

Your shadow leans into mine,
two silhouettes learning
how to separate gently,
like leaves slipping from a branch
that loved them well.

There’s longing in the quiet—
not the sharp kind,
but the soft ache of knowing
we were a season the earth
will remember kindly.

I want to stay in this moment,
your hand warm in mine,
the night humming its low,
forgiving song.
But the horizon is already
calling your name.

So go, love—
carry the warmth we made
into whatever dawn waits for you.
I’ll keep the echo of your laughter
tucked beneath my ribs,
a lantern for the colder nights.

And when the harvest moon
climbs the sky again,
I’ll look up and hope
you’re somewhere beneath it too—
smiling,
knowing that our goodbye
was never an ending,
only a gentle turning
toward whatever comes next.

27/02/2026

A Year Has Passed

A year slips by, a silent thief,
Through tendrils of memory—
You, an echo in each thought.
Oh, how I ache for the warmth,
The sweet embrace of your presence,
Soft as twilight's whisper,
Lips that linger like lingering sun.

Yet, fate's cold hand has drawn us apart,
Time’s relentless march treads heavy.
Love, an ember—
Too fierce to smother, too wild to cage,
Borne on the winds of longing,
I send these quiet wishes,
Across the void that lies between.

May joy adorn your path,
And happiness drape your shoulders,
A peace that soothes the restless heart.
Let another cradle your spirit,
With fervor that matches my own—
For love, though distant,
Grows only deeper in the shadows.

08/12/2025

🌟 You Are the Brightest Star 🌟

In a world that shifts like sand and sea,
You stand, brave heart, wild and free.
Though storms may howl and nights feel long,
Inside you hums a hero’s song.

You are not broken, not lost, not small—
You are the bravest of them all.
Each scar, each tear, each whispered prayer
Is proof of strength beyond compare.

The road you walk is steep and wide,
But hope walks always at your side.
It glows like lanterns in the night,
A quiet, steady, golden light.

And when you feel alone or scared,
Know this: you’re seen, you’re known, you’re cared.
There’s love for you, both fierce and true—
A love that wraps the stars ‘round you.

So lift your chin young one, and take your place
With courage shining on your face.
You are a story still being told—
A tale of fire, fierce and bold.

11/11/2025

In the days after your death.

In the days after your death,
the pints went untouched.
We poured them anyway—
lined them up like offerings
on the corner of the bar
where you used to sit,
laugh too loud,
and call everyone “mate”
like it was a sacred title.

We dressed in black,
not for fashion,
but to match the mood of the sky—
low-hung and heavy with unsaid things.

At the funeral,
your friends spoke like a man
trying to remember how to breathe.
Your mother clutched the program
like it might rewrite the ending.

People cried in polite silence,
then laughed too loudly at the wake,
as if joy could be summoned
to chase grief back into its cage.

Your phone rang.
Again.
And again.
Voicemails left just to hear your voice
one last time—
“Hey, it’s me. I know you won’t call back.”
We clung to the sound like it was breath.
Like it might answer.

Until one day,
the line went dead.
A sterile voice said,
“This number is no longer in service.”
And that—
that’s when it really hit.
Not the funeral,
not the ashes,
but the silence
where your echo used to live.

We cleared your room
like archaeologists,
each drawer a dig site,
each shirt folded like a memory
we weren’t ready to touch.

Your books found new shelves.
Your jacket found new shoulders.
Your toothbrush was thrown away
without ceremony.

We said things we should’ve said
when you were still rolling your eyes
and stealing the last biscuit.
We said them to the air,
to your ghost,
to each other.

And still,
you did not answer.

A year on,
you are a photo on the wall—
smiling mid-laugh,
caught in the amber of a better day.

People tell stories:
how you danced in the rain,
how you wore two different socks on purpose,
how you once tried to cook pasta
in a kettle.

They laugh.
They remember.
Then they move on.

The world does not pause.
Bills still arrive.
Babies are born.
The seasons cycle like nothing happened.

And sometimes,
it feels like you never existed at all—
except in the way silence
settles into corners
where your voice used to be.

29/10/2025

In the days after your death

In the days after your death,
the pints went untouched.
We poured them anyway—
lined them up like offerings
on the corner of the bar
where you used to sit,
laugh too loud,
and call everyone “mate”
like it was a sacred title.

We dressed in black,
not for fashion,
but to match the mood of the sky—
low-hung and heavy with unsaid things.

At the funeral,
Those who loved you spoke like a man
trying to remember how to breathe.
Your mother clutched the program
like it might rewrite the ending.

People cried in polite silence,
then laughed too loudly at the wake,
as if joy could be summoned
to chase grief back into its cage.

Your phone rang.
Again.
And again.
Voicemails left just to hear your voice
one last time—
“Hey, it’s me. I know you won’t call back.”
We clung to the sound like it was breath.
Like it might answer.

Until one day,
the line went dead.
A sterile voice said,
“This number is no longer in service.”
And that—
that’s when it really hit.
Not the funeral,
not the ashes,
but the silence
where your echo used to live.

We cleared your room
like archaeologists,
each drawer a dig site,
each shirt folded like a memory
we weren’t ready to touch.
All your medications in their bottles,
lined up like little soldiers.

Your books found new shelves.
Your jacket found new shoulders.
Your toothbrush was thrown away
with ceremony.

We said things we should’ve said
when you were still rolling your eyes
and stealing the last biscuit.
We said them to the air,
to your ghost,
to each other.

And still,
you did not answer.

A year on,
you are a photo on the wall—
smiling mid-laugh,
caught in the amber of a better day.

People tell stories:
how you danced in the rain,
how you wore two different socks on purpose,
how you once tried to cook pasta
in a kettle.

They laugh.
They remember.
Then they move on.

The world does not pause.
Bills still arrive.
Babies are born.
The seasons cycle like nothing happened.

And sometimes,
it feels like you never existed at all—
except in the way silence
settles into corners
where your voice used to be.

18/09/2025

I'm tired of pretending to be fine
Of wearing light like armor, misaligned
Of whispering strength while my soul caves in
Of tracing love where it’s never been

Of painting light over shadows that are mine
Of smiling through the ache that never sleeps
Of burying truths my silence keeps

I’m tired of nodding when I want to scream
Of shrinking to fit someone else’s dream
Of holding grace like a blade to my chest
While longing for softness, for rest

I’m tired of being the strong one, the guide
Of bleeding beauty I keep inside
Of crafting poems from heartbreak’s thread
While wishing some words were never said

I’m tired of rituals that mask the pain
Of dancing in storms just to look sane
Of building sanctuaries for others to heal
While wondering if my own wounds are real

Some nights I dream of sleep so deep
No morning comes, no need to keep
Explaining why I feel this way
Why silence feels safer than what I say

There is no softness left in this skin
Only the echo of what could’ve been
I’ve started making plans, quiet and clear
Letters sent, final requests near

This may be goodbye—I don’t know yet
But the ache has settled, the sun has set
Would they miss the poems I never wrote
Or just the echo of my throat

I’ve been loyal—fiercely, without demand
Holding others when they couldn’t stand
But when I break, they disappear
No one stays to hold me near

I feel unloved—not in the loud, dramatic sense
But in the quiet way absence makes its presence
Like being the last page no one reads

13/08/2025

I'm in need of cuddles and company 😔