Cold
Cold
Wind whips by my window, my vision
blurring. How long must I go before sun’s
shining?
The cold creeps through my windows,
chilling me deeply; so tired, so lost,
so tired of being solitary.
Melancholy and regret, a constant familiar,
my memory pains me; you are all I remember.
A persistent pain of beauty that I hate to love.
I wallow in my hurts because it is all I have.
The recollections good and bad, seemingly a
masochist I’ve become. I cry and I laugh at
memories, of my moments in the sun.
With your love you brought warmth, heating any
cold. How ironic, I left you, now I long for you
to come home.
Come home, warm my house. I miss you so
deeply. I bereft and alone, lonesome and crying.
My house grown cold, you gone far too
long. At a time your memories brought
warmth, now I’m cold to the bone.
I see you in my mind, as if yesterday you
were here. I cry in my heart; you’ve been gone
for years.
How to let go, what is the solution? For now
I live in a never ending, wintry season.
Copyright © Bruno Simmons | Year Posted 2009
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