Some Day

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“December,” someday, you’ll hear me say, “you’re small. Someday you’ll not dwell here, at all.”

“Flameless light, unconvincing tinsel — your legacy-less, grey-sky stare no longer rejects me.”

Expect me, someday, December, to say, “Gaze you, into some placid pool, reflecting — see now what I see when I see you.”

Icy heart, frozen love, ticking clock — your time winds down…down…down

Three, Two, One…you found out I found you out….

See yourself out

“I’m as May, you’re September, December.”

Content With the Cold

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What part of it mattered, Sir Universe?
What part of it shifted your dust any closer to mine?
What particles of us loved any more or lied any less when we looked in the mirror each day?

What caused us to trifle with Truth?
Frozen days are coming.
Darkened days, at full throttle, now.
What pieces of our hearts remain to force the thaw?

What sadness, were we to be, or not to be, content with the cold.