The ghosts of winter
besiege me,
with filigree fingers of
frosted ice,
that beckon and cajole me,
encourage and entice,
coaxing me into madness,
where memories
lie like wraiths
that curl themselves
around me,
dampening any good faith
in my ability to heal, and
break free from
the chill of regret,
for here, I am the monster
whose wounds I will
never forget.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments
PoetryPoetry and fragments of my mind. Dealing with heartache, betrayal, sorrow, and hope. Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook.
