Coldness shudders every cell of my body.
It’s summer and the sun shines bright;
I stand here in the remnants of time’s bounty.
My clothes burn; but my conscious is frigid at the site.
Deep in this meadow were supposed to be flowers,
Swaying, gliding, glowing in the new hope of dawn.
Oblivion. That is what is left in these ostensible bars;
Demise has come of what was meant to be born.
“Believe you must”, a voice fills in my bereft,
Daunting is the fire it has had, it were
And the womb of comfort, all that was to be swept
Brackish water flows as I coil around to find her.
She who lifted the skies,
She who dented the wrong,
Railed tearless through the goodbyes,
Head held up high, believed I was strong.
She who rebuked my fears,
She who never slammed doors shut;
Believing with only impotence came tears,
Questioning even life with a but.
She who adolescent-empathic is not,
She who yet understands like no other.
Breathing, loving, and life she taught.
Standing there to promise me another forever;
I coil around to find her,
The only hope left to encounter,