Memoirs Of A Teenage Heart

The Coldest Of Winters

The Coldest Of Winters

On Sunday, I saw your eyes

flickering darkly behind the tears,

and I wanted to avoid your gaze

that shone so clearly in fear.

On Monday, I whispered hello

and you replied with hollow sound.

It sounded like a flightless bird

that never learned to leave the ground.

On Tuesday, I held your hand,

and I wanted to let you go -

I wanted to believe you were Summer,

but your fingers were made of snow.

On Wednesday, I hugged you close,

and I never wanted to again.

Your arms were prison bars

that stole the sunlight from my skin.

On Thursday, I kissed your lips,

and I learned you couldn’t be saved.

You held the future within your dreams,

but you slept within a grave.

On Friday, you stole my heart

and replaced it with blackened coal.

It erupted in wildfire flame

that consumed and devoured my soul.

On Saturday, you faded away

and told me a silent goodbye.

You stole the pen from my hand

and extinguished the lights in the sky.

On Sunday, I had caught your eye

and my fate was set in stone.

You made it so I’d have nothing left 

but an empty chest of ivory bone