Winter is Coming

the cold chafed us.we had spent ourselves in the wind. footsteps in the snow soon to be melted. the hungry routines of nature. against the callous arrogance of humans.

the distance told us. in the torn corners of the paper. missing words. and those that could never be unsaid.

the years came in a flood. we drowned in our choices pretending we knew how to swim.

smaller still than when we had begun. victims of our own perspective.

we were pulling on the threads. letting the blanket unravel. because the cold is nothing compared to our expectation.

we'll scold the wolf. though it hunts with purpose. we'll fault the rain. though it falls to feed  us. we'll tie ourselves in knots to retain what is lost.

the future arrives in punctured balloons and impotent funerals. we grieve not for what is gone, but for what we never had. we pour ourselves into hope's bubbling cauldron and resent when its magic isn't real.

we listen to the music. burdened by the dance of surrender. feasting on the scraps of sober.

playing hopscotch with the cold. as winter takes over. finding ourselves smaller still with every step.