Anywhere But Here
Somber slate clouds blanket the longing skies,
whilst wisps of snow paint the frozen ground below.
Ombre leaves barrenly speckle slumbering trees,
glistening sheets of ice coat their fading existence.
Another bitter winter blows in,
like thistle tangling around forsaken irises.
Threads of changing seasons cling to my coat.
Taking a deep breath, I exhale, watching it hang in the evening air.
“Anywhere but here” rings in my head.
Empty coldness soaks into my soul,
as an icy blue-white depression takes hold.
Loneliness rests upon abandoned courtyards;
decaying rose petals become fossils
between layers of winter’s aquamarine verglas,
bathed by the snowglow of another illuminated midnight.
Death’s cold fingers trace my spine,
submerging me further into the gelid grip of despair,
massacring any hope of escape from this torment.
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