Where the Snow Has Gone

It is march,

The grass is not green,

And I wonder where the snow has gone.

The sky is a lustrous blue

As I lean from the window,

The air tempting my tongue

To come out and play.

Echoes of an empty house

Peel me from the glass.

My legs are not my own,

As I race for the noises beneath.

The hallway is still.

Covered with dusty, golden, frames.

Showcasing the eyes,

That pierce my broken soul.

That one winter's night,

Reminiscence through my veins.

My mind runs with turbulence

As the bitter thoughts nip at my skin.

I stop, at the stairs.

My eyes grow dizzy, my heart beat like thunder,

As the winter's eve encompasses me,

into the void.

The unforgiving night,

Where the shadows scream.

The obsidian abyss,

Where I am nothing.

I melt to the floor

As the misery floods my mind.

I am stripped of my last breath,

And I am left begging for air.

I hear branches tapping tediously against the windows,

Begging to come inside.

The shadows entrance me

As my blood runs cold.

The sky beams blackness.

The window is vacant,

My reflection staring back at me,

With bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

It is march,

The grass is not green,

And I wonder where the snow has gone.