In the ice cold zest
Of mourning,
I opened my heart
To love,
Carelessly ignoring
While imploring other
Options from above.
Frosted over the
Windowpane,
Broken under excuses
And frozen again.
When the heat
Rolled in,
I examined the damage
And grieved the famine
That set in bones,
Speaking in tones
Too harsh for the deaf.
When asked to explain,
I tend to forget,
Again and again.
