Always Was Silent
This poem is currently unpublished.
The morning was as crisp as my sharp tears. I was reminded of haunts from my childhood. The feeling I had when I walked down a dark cold November winter highway at 4 am. Further and further into the the darkness only guided by the glowing ice crystal snow banks on the side of the highway. Always alone, always silent. There was only one thing that had reminded me of these times, that was being in the cold. I overcame the cold by putting myself out in the cold.
My tears bled through my lacerations of hope. My tears cut through my eyelid thin heart, I saw red sadness. I looked to my left. Alone and silent, both of us. I was passing by watchfully. The other, she sat on the bus bench wrapped in a perfect blue wool to match the seasonal despair. She sat alone, as did I.
She sat as she always did, as did I, silent.
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