Untitled - Winter
The meterologist tells me it's the season of fall
But from my experience
I can tell it's winter
Oh, winter, the breath that
seeps into my skin
and leaves my body clean empty of
the internal organs that is the
Heart of my functioning
Oh, winter,
I cannot escape the dry wrath of her
hands pushing down on my shoulders,
daring me to collapse upon my knees
to eat the ice cold dirt that's
packed down ever so tightly on the trail I
now walk upon.
Oh, winter,
A bitter woman who taunts me with memories of the year just past
365 days,
but how many memories have since embedded themselves
underneath my skin, burrowing deep into the warmth burning low
under the sea of red
blood rushing to my fingertips and
Out into this blue woman's lips down to the mourning ghouls that remain entrapped in her
gastric intestines.
Damned winter that robs me of happiness
not yet sprouted in the planted pot of summer's
green,
Her cool shadow that lingers, following
softly behind; leaving behind
a breath of frost.
Copyright Erica N. 2005
Steal and DIE.
