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. 

Symphonic

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I want
With the stroke of my pen, to strike you down
With the blink of my eyes, to unsee you

More importantly

I need
With the tools I surely possess, to repair my own heart
With the uncommon grace that is my sinew, to forgive you

Winter Proof

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Ended as it began

These dark days of November through January
Dancing in digital
Parallel and alone

Yet in analog, earnestly asking
Feigning a truth on behalf of some good cause

Forgiveness follows now, as it must
Lest Winter become as liquid courage
That most dangerous thing

Same Measure

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Jump through hoops
Come away singed
Whipped
Like a circus animal
Deserving this fate

But don’t believe
Whitewashing the past
Time
Or some forgiving heart
Will redeem you

Artist Credit: Tiger R., age 11

miracle heart transplant

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there is no Noah-gene abounding of me

no spin of the wheel offering another lifespan allowance equal to what you’ve long since spent

in silence, find truth

there is no infinite number of star-filled skies

no take-backs or do-overs, despite my shouts of forgiveness and this miracle heart transplant

in truth, find silence