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And Love A Good Callback To Another Poem - Blog Posts
on winter
come winter, i am flimsy,
waxen paper on dry breeze
crumpled by the pressure, and
hardened by the cold
come winter, i can’t.
every breath hurts to breathe
frost forced down your lungs,
spider fingers in your veins, it
peels off your jacket
it ignores whimper of pain
biting your skin,
frozen heartbeat gone
come winter, it hurts
and you don’t want to fight
it is someone else,
naked, battered,
beaten, bruised
but it is you, knocking on that door
it is you, begging to be let in
ember dying in the cold,
frost-bitten fingertips and
stone cold pit to be thawed.
it is you, feathers sodden by rainfall
petrichor dirt freshly churned on your grave
and desperate plea,
and hope for something better
it is you, who shakes off the water
and emerges, drenched in warmth,
ready, now, yearning,
to be set alight