Winter
Snow falling.
Melting puddles of my brain.
Forming tears where they never formed before.
Past gnawing on the fat of my heart,
Pulling at my threaded veins,
Unraveling my photo of your face.
Time is the stillness of a 5am winter morn’
The ground shadowed by the falling sky.
Crunching thoughts with my feet-
Alone.
And I grow old…
The wrinkles in my hands,
cracking bones.
It’s coming
And leaving.
Ripped between tomorrow and yesterday.
Copyright ©
Ann T. | Year Posted 2008
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