Winter is forever.
These piercing days, I hate them.
I hate the quiet sleepiness of eternity
where nothing ever happens.
But what will I do when they’ve gone?
Time is slow when it’s frozen, a routine cataclysm,
infinite boredom
that makes the day just like the night.
The air is raw
and your lips are burnt crimson
but at last!
They’re against mine.
I hate these days
with no contrast when everything blends together,
but I hold these distant hours close when
they bar you in a cage of blissful
time in between,
chilling my illogical fear and fearful logic
with a frosty haze.
Summer days roll by on passion,
release you with occurrence.
So I hate these days, when I can’t follow your footprints
to the spot where you wait to jump at me in affection.
I hate these days,
and what they bring and how they keep coming and going,
and I know someday you’ll follow them.
Like warm honey,
you’ll weep out of my helpless arms,
as they curl with the knowledge that I die while the world is reborn.