Winter immerses me
in seven shades of guilt,
frigid breaths spiralling
into icy blooms
that wilt
like a desiccated flower,
wrought in the
stillness of grief,
and the words
are frozen on my tongue
like a frosted leaf,
silent syllables draped
in silver,
echoing with pleas
that were never formed,
yet in the depths
of January,
maybe there's
a chance to be
transformed.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments
PoetryPoetry and fragments of my mind. Dealing with heartache, betrayal, sorrow, and hope. Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook.
