Harsh against the cheek, the northern air is chilly, hardening me slowly to its melancholy. Some days I feel nothing
except for the brittle bones reminding me of something that used to be weary and clinging to the flesh by a thread.
It wasn’t until you left me holding my end of the bargain that I started believing in my own cause. Like a dying man clinging to a prayer I held on to your love. It wasn’t until you vanished into thin air, like blue smoke that I realized how much you meant to me. It wasn’t until you broke my heart into a thousand pieces, with your lies gleaming like a kaleidoscope, that I realized how much I cared for you, my love. So, I painted a sign with my pardon in ocher and crimson and all the colors of the setting sun and held it above my head. But, you never turned back to see me… You never came back to release me from the shackles of your agony…
Until now, we’ve held our own, in spite of the gusty winds trying to knock our hats off, awaiting a thaw inside this frozen womb. Still, when you waved, not withstanding the frost I was born again recreated in the image of my father.