The memory of frost

Life has been too

sharp of late,

for words.

Sharp, like pain.

Memories.

Absences.

wanting to write

the words but

thinking

that no one reads them anyway.

Rather like speaking aloud

to

a vacant room.

Waiting for you

like an empty house

until you see me

and live again in me.

Until then my windows ache.


It's been a tough few weeks.
Believe me.