The winter's fading, am I
falling back for you
again? Waiting to wake up
to the drenched poems
you would send, of lifelessness
and death, and despair;
trying to suck meaning, life,
empty mind, unlit
fears, when the doors break open
in gust and in rage.
Unfed senses that lay stripped
in carnivorous
ugliness, now falls over
us who sit steady
pretending that things will change
hiding ourselves from
us, trying not to admit
that it will only get worse.