i) a thick blanket of clouds,wrapping tendrils of fog across
the shoulders of the mountain.
deep roots, bare branches,
myriads of color blended together,
a mystic painting etched by the finger of winter.
we are carried by the heavy breath of time,
snowflakes peppering the sky, a haze falls
over our eyes, and the world turns white
as if with fallen ash.
ii) i see you in the gray clouds
that settle over the reaching trees,
an illusion of warmth that dissipates
as soon as i immerse myself in your (its) embrace.
the moon haunts the sky, absent as often
as it is there, hovering, a promise of constancy,
a interminable reminder that nothing stays the same.
iii) purple haze, light passing into memory
that fades with distance.
a funeral; effulgence only a dim memory
of the hollow days past, your laughter
still ringing in the air, shadowed with words
that are now empty, heavy with that which
was promised, and forgotten.
i'm becoming a ghost, fading into
the past, melting into what you were.
and as illusions, we pass into the void.
just let me go.
don't hold on.
let me go.
this is the first time i've sat down to write poetry in months. it's aching, unnatural and the words don't flow like they used to, but it feels good to be writing - even if every word is fought for. also, i know i haven't been posting very regularly, but i'm getting back into it; slowly but surely becoming comfortable in the state of mind that used to be second nature to me. i've missed this. what's life like in your corner of the woods, friends? xx