When the winter ends …
Am I still here? I think I am. Where? Why?
In a room with snowflakes, blue curtains and cold almost divine.
It’s a game for the eyes. No, a trap for the mind.
White tulips. Beautiful, but not real. Fake.
Ordered to be given, but never sent.
Do I want to escape? I want. No. Maybe. I don’t know. Uh.
Confusion. Confidence. Do I have them?
The exit. There. Nothing on the way.
Voice. Saying quietly. No. Screaming. Does it matter?
Do I want to hear? No. I tried before. It hurts.
Words, never found. Promises, raw wind passing by.
I go. No. I stop. Step, two and I’m back.
I want to stay. I can’t. Am I sure?
How do I reach the door? Faraway. Dark behind.
Strength. Zero. Air. Shadows. Ignorance.
I need a hand. I think I do. Five fingers to hold on to.
When? Today. Before light. Before the snow dries the sun.
How? Alone. Reaching doors safely closed and …
Kiss. Not yours. Not now. Not tomorrow.
When the snow melts. When the winter ends.
When the green leaves erase my grief and your face.
© 2010 Broken Sparkles