When the mist of the cold manages to snatch my wrists
& pull me deep, deep down,
thumbing at the vines down my wrist as I fall…

Inhale deeply, sire.
Let yourself drop.
Let yourself choke & let yourself see
all that you’ve lost—

all that I will lose.
What have I lost? What have I lost?
Other than sunny days
sunnier smiles
drifting willows
and drifting dreams,

Sire. Sire,
are you awake yet?
Have you learned and repented?
Sire. Sire,
do you understand yet?
Have you told and spoken
those words that I’ve long forgotten
in your shallow and freezing prison,
on your lonesome?

When I hear a memory that was never lost,
I gasp awake with my heart beating fast & frantic.
When nostalgia knocks upon my door,
the reaper come to retrieve me,
I tear my heart from its socket and ask it for answers.
“What have you done
to what used to be?
You have shoved me, taken my hand
and dragged me-“

Sire…

“-&, &, and
what have you done
to the darkest terrors
the lightest days,
&, &, &-“

Sire.

“-what have you done-“

Sire,

“-to-“

Sire,

…

i have been

“-us-“

long

“…?”

gone.